The Darkness He Brings
by RomanticizedRebel
Summary: Someone believed to be dead by everybody at NCIS returns after almost five years. However, he is not the man any of them remember. He has changed, and brings his mysterious team with him. T for swears. Now completed.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS, nor any of the characters. That pleasure belongs to Don Bellisario and CBS alone.**

Gibbs, Ziva, and McGee were strapped into the dark cabin of a helicopter.

The windows of the chopper that carried Team Gibbs were blacked out, and communication through their top-notch soundproof headsets was turned off. Neither speaking nor lip-reading was an option. The Navy SEAL who was sitting in the copilot's seat had confiscated their cell phones and gear. With any possible method of communication taken away, Team Gibbs was resigned to sitting in silence in a helicopter that was taking them to an unknown location.

With nothing but their thoughts to fill the time, the teammates reflected on what had brought them there.

_A Petty Officer was found in a dumpster a few hundred yards away from the Pentagon. The dumping of a body in such a high-security area had prompted Director Vance to hand the case to the Major Crimes Response Team._

_The dead petty officer had a bullet lodged in his abdomen. Ducky was baffled when he discovered that the man had died of the radiation poisoning a few minutes after being shot. He sent tissue samples as well as the bullet up to Abby, who was unable to identify the bullet, metal, or radioactive element. Despite the Petty Officer's DNA and prints being in perfect condition, McGee, Ziva, and Abby were unable to ID him._

_Two more bodies showed up in DC, both unidentified Petty officers. They had been killed in exactly the same way- radiation with one of the unknown bullets straight through the liver. One was near the Washington Memorial, and the other, the White House. Neither of them brought any more information than the last. The only thing that they were able to determine was that the killer was a professional._

_The team was frustrated. They were sitting in Abby's lab, trying to figure out what was going on when Director Vance stormed in, the SecNav behind him. Three Navy SEALS were right on their heels._

"_Agent Gibbs," SecNav said, "Your case involves classified information. You and your team will be transported to an undisclosed location. You will be briefed upon your arrival, and work with a special team."_

_The Navy SEALS manhandled the team from Abby's lab to a landing pad. A helicopter was there, blades already spinning. The chopper had markings on it that none of them recognized- black, with a strange gold insignia on the side. The insignia seemed to be a circle with a star within it, and some smaller image in the center. Gibbs wasn't able to see what was in the center before a headset was shoved into his hands with a gruff "Keep it on, or else."_

Gibbs and the team heeded the warning and kept the headsets on. They sat in silence until the pilot's voice crackled onto the headset. "Landing in three minutes, this will be a quick drop. You have exactly thirty seconds from the time we touch ground to be off this aircraft. Understood?"

Gibbs cleared his throat, a little unnerved by the sudden break in the dark and silence. "Affirmative," he growled as the chopper began to drop downward sharply. Gibbs was familiar with this style of landing from his time as a marine, and wasn't bothered by it. Ziva was as well from her experience in Mossad. McGee, however, looked positively green as the helicopter spun and sunk to the earth.

McGee breathed a massive sigh of relief when they touched ground. He leaned against the door, only to almost fall out when yet another SEAL pulled the door open. The SEAL yanked him and Ziva out of the helicopter. Gibbs stepped out, growling, "I'm capable."

They stood in front of a tall, black glass building. Navy SEALS patrolled the entire area.

McGee felt the absence of what would've been some snarky comment about there being a whole aquarium's worth of SEALS.

He found himself missing Gibb's former SFA at the weirdest times.


	2. Chapter 2

The facility had more security than Gibbs had ever seen. Military guards crawled around the place. There were at least 30 Navy SEALs. Green Berets as well as other guards dressed in black BDUS patrolled the place as well. Half a dozen helicopters with the same markings as the one they rode in were lined up on various landing pads. Teams flitted around them, ready for takeoff at any moment. A 20-foot tall fence surrounded the area, electrically humming.

One of the SEALS jogged up to Gibbs. "Name?"

"Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs."

"Hand."

Gibbs held up his hand for the man, and the man pressed his thumb onto a portable biometric scanner. He then flipped it and pushed Gibbs's pinkie into it. Gibbs felt the sharp poke of a needle but refrained from wincing. The man waited for a moment, then nodded to Gibbs. "You're clear." He repeated the process on McGee and Ziva, both of whom jumped when their fingers were pricked.

He handed a card to each of them. It had their name, picture, and thumbprint on each of them. In one corner was a bit of their blood, in the other the insignia that was on the chopper.

"You may proceed inside."

A black-clad man marched up to them and nodded, with a curt "Follow me."

He led them to the door of the building. "Stay next to me at all times. " Flashing his card to a black-clad man at the door, he pressed his thumb onto a biometric scanner. Team Gibbs replicated the actions and stepped inside. They followed him through a lobby-like area where a blonde woman sat behind a wooden desk covered in computers. She did not look up as they passed through.

A glass elevator brought them into a large, spacious corridor. The man opened a door to their right. Stepping through, they were all struck by the resemblance to the NCIS conference room, even if the walls were cement rather than orange.

A black haired woman pushed open a door on the other side of the room. "Agents Gibbs, David, McGee…" She gestured at the table. "Sit."

The woman's physical appearance was nonthreatening, though something in her eyes screamed danger.

"I'm going to cut to the chase. I would have you taken off this case immediately. However, what you have uncovered makes you a liability. We have an elite squad that is more than capable of handling what is going on. I will have you sitting alongside them while they deal with this mess. You will behave bystanders unless specifically instructed by a member of the team. The leader has been given a carte-blanch of power over this entire facility and all who work here, myself excluded. There will be no argument from any of you on any of his orders, unless you are willing to suffer most dire consequences. If you so much as blink, you will be fired, imprisoned, or shot… Or possibly all three, depending on who is around."

After the woman finished her monologue, Gibbs tilted his head at her. "When do we meet the team?"

"All in good time- they are on an operation currently. You will sleep beforehand. Do realize that you are forbidden to speak of what I have told you, of what any team member tells you, of this place, or anything that happens to you while here with _anyone._"

McGee began to speak, but the woman cut him off. "No, you are not in Area 51."

Gibbs had to suppress a smile, remembering a time when the team played a war game. Tony had endlessly commented about their location's similarities to a movie portrayal of Area 51, and spouted off theories about aliens and unicorns.

The woman mashed a button, and the man in black returned. "Follow me."

He lead them back into the elevator, pressing a button labeled "quarters."

They descended a few levels, and stepped out into a hallway. They were led to the last door, which was isolated somewhat from the other bunkers. There was a keypad on the door.

After punching a few buttons, the door swung open. The man motioned for them to go inside. "First room- beds. Second room - Showers. Third room - Latrine." He closed the door behind them and the distinctive sound of an electronic lock clicking shut was heard. Immediately, Ziva and McGee began shooting off questions.

"_Where are we?"_

"_What is this place?"_

"_What information is so classified?"_

"_Who is this team?"_

Gibbs headslapped both of them. "Don't know any more than either of you. Shaddup and sleep- you'll need it."

Ziva and McGee nodded and dutifully hopped into their beds.

Gibbs suppressed a smile. "Planning to shower?"

Ziva and McGee both jumped up and hurried into the showers. Gibbs dropped his bags next to a cot, questions swirling through his head.

_Where are we?_

_Why is in this place so closely guarded?_

_Who the hell gives a team leader a carte blanche of power?_

_Who is this team leader?_

Gibbs had a difficult time sleeping. The questions kept him awake long after his two agents were asleep.

The silence of the room was unnerving. Gibbs gut twisted. Even after 4 ½ years, he couldn't help but notice the absence of Tony's soft snoring. Eventually, he managed to drift off.


	3. Chapter 3

Gibbs woke up at 05:00, as he had since he became a marine. Ziva was up, restlessly moving around their bunker. Her hands fidgeted, feeling the absence of her beloved knife.

Ziva motioned towards McGee. "Should I wake him?"

Gibbs shook his head. "I'll wake him. MAH-GEE!"

McGee jumped about a foot into the air. "Yes, Boss!?"

"Get dressed, and be ready to go at any moment."

Gibbs smirked as he watched McGee stumble around the room, pulling on his clothing and shoes. Ziva had to stifle laughter.

As McGee pulled his shirt over his head, the electronic locks of the door released.

A young woman stepped into the room. She was at least 6 feet tall and appeared to have slim-to-average build. However, the fitted white t-shirt she wore gave away lean, defined muscles in her arms. She had on black BDU pants and combat boots. Her skin was pale and freckles dotted her nose. Medium length brown hair was pulled into a tight French braid down the back of her head, accentuating piercingly grey eyes.

The woman smirked. "Rise and shine, Team Gibbs," she sing-songed. Her voice was deep, with a soft southern accent.

She stepped out of the room. "Put your tongue back in your head, McGee," Ziva hissed.

"No, no," McGee stammered, "It's just… She's really… Tall."

He heard the woman laugh from outside the room. "Very observant, aren't we?"

McGee's face turned beet red.

Gibbs, McGee, and Ziva hurried out of their bunker. The woman led them to the conference room they spoke to the other woman in the night before.

"Please, have a seat."

The three of them sat down.

"Team Gibbs, I am a member of the squad you will be working with. I am supposed to fill you in…" She began, smiling warmly. "Ya'll received some information from our director last night…?"

McGee began to tell her that they didn't when they realized that the black-haired woman who spoke to them must have been the director.

"Right," the woman continued. "I'll introduce myself- It's a courtesy that not all of my coworkers are fans of. My name is Bloody."

Ziva raised her eyebrows. "Bloody?"

"Not real name."

"Obviously."

Bloody grinned. "I'm not really a fan myself… My actual name is Mary. Bloody Mary, if you will…" She shrugged nonchalantly. Something dark flickered in her eyes.

McGee felt a shiver run down his spine.

Mary smiled charmingly.

"Anyways, welcome to our humble abode. My team deals with high-level threats and incidences involving extremely classified material. Our clearance is so high you need high clearance to find out how much clearance we have."

She smiled grimly at this. Then, something in her expression changed. Her eyes became hard. Though the tone and tempo of her voice remained the same, her words had a harsh, biting quality to them.

"Make no mistake, Team Gibbs. While I personally enjoy company, you are not needed or wanted. My team is the elite, the best of the best, and is more than capable of handling the situation. The only rule we have is to get the job done.

The team's collective gut twisted apprehensively.

"Beyond our names, and even then it will be a code name and possibly a first name, do not ask for any information pertaining to our identities. They, along with everything we do, are classified."

Mary rolled up her sleeve, showing Team Gibbs her wrist. The logo they had seen on the chopper was tattooed there, with the number 5100702

" I am Agent 5100702 and second-in-command of the ECTF- the Elite Classified Task Force."

She leaned back in her chair, which squeaked as she stretched her head and neck over the back of it. When she returned to her original position, her eyes and expression were back to happy amusement.

"So, I have orders to bring you to our squad floor."

Not leaving any time for questions, Mary stood and strode out of the room. The team had no choice but to follow.

Mary led them through the passages to a heavy metal door. A SEAL stood outside it; a fully automatic shotgun casually hung over his neck.

"_Steve-O!_ How's my favorite Navy Walrus!?"

Steve grinned at Mary. "Pretty good. How are you BM?"

Mary snorted. "Shitty."

He peered around Mary at Ziva, Gibbs, and McGee.

"Our trippy little band of outsiders?"

"Be nice, Steven. It's not their fault that Capital Hill has idiotic rules about sharing operations."

Gibbs fixed Mary with his hardest stare.

"_Awk-_ward," snickered Mary.

Gibbs squinted at her. "How old are you, anyways?" he questioned sardonically.

"Well, you know, it's not polite to ask a lady her age…"

Gibbs glared more.

"However, I'm not a lady. 23 next month."

Flabbergasted, McGee exclaimed, "How'd you get on a team that young?"

"I'm good."

Steven opened the door, and stood aside. Mary skipped into the room for effect.

Gibbs growled again and followed Mary.

The squad room was a brick pentagonal room. The sun glared in through a skylight. There was a desk in each corner of the room, all but one covered in computers. A metal cabinet ran along one wall. A table with seven or eight chairs sat in the center of the room, coffee cups stacked around a coffee machine in the center.

A nerdy-looking man turned to them, and crossed the room. He shoved his glasses up on his nose. "Mary, would these be our… guests?"

Mary nodded. "Play nice."

"I'm Agent Dexter- technological specialist. Dexter isn't my real name, but our team leader found the physical similarities between me and the television character amusing.'

Gibb's expression was blank.

"You know- Dexter's Laboratory?"

No response.

"Ah, geez." Dexter said, running a hand through his red hair.

Ziva turned to Mary. "Why did you tell him to 'Play nice?"

"I'll let you find that one out for yourselves."

Two more team members walked up. A burly man stuck out a massive paw. "Mongo."

"Mongo doesn't say much. Make no mistake, when he wants to, he can speak quite eloquently. However, he's mostly our freakishly strong, silent type. Defensive specialist,"

The other man was a young black man, roughly the same height as Mary.

He stuck out a hand. "Stevie, as in Wonder. I can sing, but that's not my job. I'm Intel."

Mary looked around. "Where's our fearless leader?"

Stevie rolled his eyes. "One of his missions."

Mary frowned. "I hate it when he goes all lone-wolf." She turned back to Gibbs. "You'll be hanging out in here… Sit at the table." McGee and Ziva sat obediently.

Gibbs remained standing. "Our gear?"

Mary blinked, then pulled out a white iPhone. "Hey, Steve-O, can you get one of our goons to bring our adorable NCIS agents their stuff?"

Even McGee glared at her when she called them adorable

She smiled sweetly and plunked down at the table across from Ziva and McGee.

"So…" Ziva said, "What is your role in all of this?"

"Well, I'm the weaponry specialist. You got a gun, or something with firepower, I can hit anything visible. I also specialize in interrogation… specific kinds, only if our team leader can't get what he wants out of a subject, which is pretty rare."

Ziva felt her skin prickle at the way Mary said 'specific kinds.'

"You sound like Mossad."

Mary smiled. "But so much worse."

"Are you the only team here?"

"There are several other teams. We're the top one." Mary's cellphone rang.

"Agent Bloody…" She paused, listening to the caller. "U-huh. Yes ma'am." She put the phone back into her pocket. "Director Meloy wants us in Conference. Come with us."


	4. Chapter 4

The NCIS team was seated at the conference table along with ECTF team and the Director, along with the lead agents from the other teams.

The Director checked her watch. "Agent Bloody, where is your team leader?"

"Ah, Director Mel," Mary grinned, "Where do you think? Intel."

"Does he ever sleep?"

"Never seen it. So, director, why are we being graced with your presence this fine morning?"

"The case we are dealing with that has brought this NCIS team to us. The bodies have been turning up in DC, and the evidence is all there. I believe it would be easier if we worked there."

"Aw, guys." Mary beamed. "We get to go to your place!"

"NCIS?" Ziva asked.

"No. Your houses." Stevie groused contemptuously.

"Yup," Mary said cheerfully. "It'll be way easier to do this from your offices."

The NCIS team breathed a collective sigh of relief at this. They were far more comfortable on their own turf.

Stevie, Mongo, and Dexter whipped out PDAs, furiously tapping.

Director Mel dismissed them with a wave of her hand. "I'll meet you there."

The teams rode in a helicopter. The ride passed in silence, except for Mary's few attempts to engage the team in conversation.

Gibbs expertly hopped out of the helicopter seconds after touching down. "House, sweet house." Ziva muttered as she followed Gibbs. McGee stumbled after them. The ECTF was already waiting, having all gone out the other door in a quarter of the time.

Vance and SecNav Davenport were waiting just off of the landing pad. "Agent Gibbs." SecNav Davenport greeted. "And… ECTF?" Mary nodded. "Please, come to the conference room."

"Well, it is a pleasure to be able to collaborate with you…" Vance began once they were seated in the conference room, "I have to admit, I had my doubts about your agency's existence."

"Well, you're all alive and well, so we're obviously real," sneered Stevie.

Vance momentarily looked confused.

"What my ill-mannered teammate means is that if we weren't real, you'd all be dead. The whole nation would probably have been obliterated by now," Mary clarified.

"I see," Vance said. "Well, I hear good things from the FBI-"

"Federal Bureau of Imbeciles," scoffed Dexter.

Mary glared at him. "Shut up and let the nice Director talk."

"Thank you, Agent…" Vance trailed off.

"Bloody."

Vance blinked. "Agent Bloody. As I was saying, this will be a joint investigation. You are to inform the Secretary of the Navy, myself, and the MCRT of what is going on at all times."

A look passed between the members of the ECTF. "That will be fine, Director," Mary said.

"I assume you're the Team Leader?" Vance asked.

"Never assume, Director Vance. I'm not the Team Leader. He's on his way back from a solo mission. Our team leader is-"

"Me," a voice cut her off from the doorway.

All nine heads in the room whirled around to see none other than Tony DiNozzo striding through the doorway.

"_Tony," _Ziva breathed.


	5. Chapter 5

**A little overdue - I don't own NCIS. Thanks to Don Bellisario for letting me play with his characters.**

**I love the reviews- they keep me going. Any feedback at all is wonderful! Love you guys!**

"Sorry I'm late," Tony said as he glided into the room. "Director Vance, Secretary Davenport. It has not been nearly long enough." He stuck out his hand. Vance scowled at him, baffled. The SecNav smirked.

The jaw of every member of Team Gibbs could be heard hitting the floor. Gibbs, Ziva, and McGee sat in stunned silence as they scrambled to put the pieces together in their heads. They all stared at Tony, who was almost unrecognizable. He wore black cloth BDU pants, which were tucked into black combat boots. A grey cotton long sleeve Under Armor shirt revealed the hard muscles that lined his chest, shoulders and back. His brown hair was short and untamed, and a five o'clock shadow lined his jaw and chin. His chiseled face was shadowed, and dark bags hung under his eyes. A sense of danger oozed from him and electrified the air.

Secretary Davenport turned to Tony. "You know, I never did thank you for that last op you ran for me."

Tony scoffed. "Since when does Capital Hill thank anyone for anything when it doesn't involve PR?"

Gibbs was about to speak up when Director Meloy strode in. She offered her hand to Vance. "Director Meloy of the Elite Classified Task Forces." She gracefully sat down next to Tony. "Secretary Davenport, have you briefed Agent Gibbs about the situation?" SecNav shook his head. "Good. This makes my job easier." She turned to Gibbs. "There is a major terrorist attack being planned, as we speak, on the United States. The ECTF is working currently to put the threat down, and is gathering Intel at the moment. We know that the cell is in the DC area, hence the bodies that keep turning up."

The NCIS agents and Vance paled.

"You are dismissed," SecNav said.

Tony was out of the room in a flash, his team a step behind him. The SecNav left behind them, followed by the two directors. Gibbs, Ziva, and McGee were left standing in the room.

Gibbs sat, thanking whatever powers may be that Tony was alive. He had no idea how or why he was alive- even he had resigned years ago to the fact that Anthony D. Dinozzo, Jr. was, in all likelihood, dead.

Ziva and McGee began babbling almost instantly, stupefied at the appearance of their former teammate.

"_Was that-" _Ziva asked

"_Couldn't have been-" _McGee cut in

"_But he…"_

"_We thought he was…"_

"_Looked for him-"_

"Shaddup! Both of you! Yes, that was Tony. How he's here, or at the head of that team, I don't know. Let's go downstairs. We'll figure it out later. For now, we have a job to do." Gibbs snapped. He stood up abruptly and strode out of the room. Ziva and McGee followed, right on his heels.

They walked downstairs and into the bullpen, they found Tony's team in their desks. Dexter sat at McGee's desk, furiously typing. Stevie and Mongo stood over the empty desk that used to be Tony's, looking intently at a map. Director Meloy sat at Ziva's desk. Tony and Mary both leaned against it, talking to Meloy.

"Boss! Got something!" Dexter's voice rang across the bullpen after a few minutes. "Satellite activity- warehouse by a sewer system, within five miles of where all of the bodies were found."

"Good work- find more. I need coordinates, layout."

He turned to Mongo and Stevie. "Call Mel. Let her know what we've found."

He turned to Team Gibbs.

McGee, Ziva, and Gibbs looked at him, expecting a teary "I missed you" scene and explanation of where he had been in the past five years.

He glared at all of them; his eyes frigidly cold. "Keep your asses planted, and out of our way."

Director Vance stepped out of the elevator a few hours later. Gibbs, who was on his way back from a coffee run, ran into him outside of the bullpen. "Friends from the CIA and FBI. They want in- have been pursuing the same threat for months," said Vance.

Gibbs looked over Vance's shoulder to see Tobias Fornell and Trent Kort stroll up. Fornell shrugged apologetically to Gibbs. Kort, however, had a less remorseful attitude.

"Well, Gibbs, we meet again. I can offer you a joint investigation on this one, though I'm not overly enthused at the idea of working with your team."

"That's excellent, because it's not him you'll be working with," growled Tony, walking up behind him.

An unreadable expression passed over Kort's face before he masked it. "Ah, Agent _Bond. _I see the ECTF is involved?"

"Too big of a threat for the CIA and FBI to handle, so it got handed to me."

Anger rushed over Kort. "I don't see why they would call you in. We-"

"Trent, Trent, Trent," Tony laughed humorlessly, "Have you learned nothing? When the government screws up or wants something done, they call in the people who can get the job done and don't have asses to cover."

Kort began to protest, but Tony cut him off again, addressing Fornell. "Tobias Fornell. My favorite person from my third least-favorite agency." Tony looked over Fornell's shoulder. "Oh, look, it's Mossad. Now the party can _really _start." Vance, Gibbs, Kort, and Fornell turned to see what Tony was talking about. Sure enough, Eli David and Malachi Ben-Gideon strolled up.

Ignoring the others, Eli stuck a hand out to Tony. "Shalom, my friend."

"Brave of you to set foot in the US after our last little mishap, Eli." Tony said, firmly grasping Eli's hand.

Eli chuckled. "Merely politics, my friend. "

Tony smirked. "Convincing choice of assassin- very stylish. There isn't a murderer, assassin, or politician in DC who doesn't… didn't know, love, and respect him."

Gibbs' mind was reeling. _Tony is alive. SecNav, Fornell and Kort knew Tony was alive. Tony is on a first name basis with the Director of Mossad. What the hell is this job?_

Tony tilted his head towards Malachi. "Malachi."

Malachi nodded back.

Tony smiled a vicious, dark smile. Malachi, Fornell, Eli, and Kort all shifted uncomfortably

_Since when does Anthony DiNozzo unnerve the men of some of the most feared agencies in the world?_


	6. Chapter 6

" As cute as this little reunion is, I need to figure out what the hell is going on. Kort, Fornell, Eli, Malachi, and Agent Gibbs. Conference Room. I need whatever Intel you can give me," Tony called as he turned and started up the stairs. "Mary, with me."

Mary stood up, stretched, and jogged after Tony. McGee caught the glint of a knife strapped to her hip when she stretched.

McGee looked at Dexter. "You guys work with Kort… and Fornell… and Mossad?"

Dexter snorted. "We do the work and eliminate the problem. They either take credit or cover up, depending on the situation."

Gibbs studied Tony as he gathered information from everyone at the table. Tony elected not to sit at the head of the table, opting for a seat where he could easily see the entrance to the room.

Everyone in the room willingly handed their Intel over to Tony. There was no clashing over who took the lead of the case- it seemed to be his by default. Even Eli David showed respect towards Tony. Whether that was a good thing or a bad one, Gibbs was unsure.

Tony and Mary shuffled through the various papers, scanning and whispering to each other. Gibbs could catch snippets of their conversation.

"_,,,Rules out the Taliban. That and Hamas."_

"_We sent their last cell skyward… Think they go the message…."_

"_Obviously not…."_

"_Shit."_

Tony stopped shuffling through the papers. "We're dealing with an Al Qaeda cell."

The blood drained from every face in the room,

"Are you sure, Agent Bond?" Fornell piped up. "Couldn't it be some rouge cell or local radical group?"

"He's sure, Fornell," Kort cut in, sullenly. "I've never known him to be wrong before."

_Since when does Trent Kort vouch for Tony's abilities? What has Tony done in order to earn someone like Kort's respect? _Gibbs gut told him that whatever it was, it wasn't exactly good.

Tony reached into the pocket of his BDU pants and pulled out a small screen. He punched a button. Director Mel's face appeared on the screen. "SitRep," she commanded.

"It's Al Qaeda. Cell in DC. Part of major organization."

Mel paused. "Proceed. Use all means necessary. Take them down."

The whole group excluding Mossad, Vance and the SecNav stood in the bullpen.

"We're handling Al Qaeda. Use all means necessary to eliminate," Tony briefed his team.

Ziva studied Tony. He had an air of authority and deadliness around him. There was a dark energy buzzing around him, one that seemed to provoke respect and fear from some of the most infamous federal agents in the United States of America.. Kort's eyes never left him, watching him warily. Fornell nervously shifted his weight back and forth, and shoved his eyes deep in his pockets.

She was musing over what this could mean when a voice that chilled her to the core sounded from behind her.

"Shalom, my Ziva."

Ziva whirled around. "Father. What are you doing here?"

Eli David smiled grimly. "What, can a father not say hello to his daughter without being interrogated as to what he is doing in the country?"

Ziva eyed him warily. "A father, yes. You, no."

Eli shook his head. "Come, walk with me."

Eli and Ziva walked together outside of NCIS. Malachi trailed a few feet behind them. "So you are saying that we are handling Al Qaeda?" Ziva questioned him in Hebrew.

"Yes, and a sect that has made various threats against Israel." Eli responded. He paused. "But I assume that is not all you wanted to know."

"You know what I want to know," Ziva spat.

"Ah, yes. You want to know about Agent DiNozzo."

"_He has been believed to be dead for four years!"_

"This is strange. I was under the impression you were fond of him."

"I _was. _He was my partner! _Why did you not tell me he was alive! _What happened to him, and _what is he now_?"

"Ah, yes. The _incident _in which he disappeared- He was not killed by the terrorists."

"_What. Happened."_

"Patience, my Ziva. They interrogated him for a few months in a secret location. He not only survived the interrogation, but also managed to learn secrets of theirs, much as he did from me." Eli smiled wistfully. "He has fire. He would have been excellent Mossad."

"And I assume he escaped?"

"He was found by a team from the Elite Classified Task Force. He did not want to return to NCIS, and we could not allow him to with what he learned. The ECTF was impressed by his resilience and what he managed to uncover. Director Meloy claimed him."

"Why is there so much secrecy surrounding him and his team?"

Eli chuckled. "My Ziva, our homeland is not the only country with dirty secrets. I can not tell you more."

Ziva was livid. "_Father-"_

"Ah, ah, ah, My Ziva," Eli said in English, holding up his hands. "I have shared what I can. You were, and always will be, Mossad. Use what you have been taught."

The group had not moved from the bullpen when Ziva returned. Kort was attempting to flirt with Mary.

"Mary, lovely as always." He took her hand and began to lift it to his lips.

Mary gave him a glare that could've vaporized Gibbs. "_Kort-Kort-Kort, _I wouldn't do that if I were you, unless you want your ribs broken by Mongo."

"She is serious," Malachi piped up, "I still feel pain in the fingers she broke when it is raining."

Kort sharply dropped her hand.

"Bossman-" Stevie's voice sounded from the opposite side of the bullpen a few hous later, "I got something."

The whole group (Except for the directors) sat in the bullpen. Any other workers from NCIS, who all had watched the events of the day with wide eyes, had long since gone home. Tony bent down to look at Stevie's screen. "Good. Get me satellite imaging. " Tony commanded. He turned on his heel, heading for the stairs. He had visit to pay to a forensic scientist and medical coroner.


	7. Chapter 7

**_I don't own NCIS, but I do love playing with the characters Don Bellesario created. Reviews would be lov-er-ly, if you can spare the time._**

Tony hit the button on the elevator that would bring him to the lab of Abby Scuito.

_What can I say to her? I've been missing, presumed dead, for over four years. It would be like a ghost returning. Abby probably is okay, though. She was after Kate's death._

He hit the switch. The elevator doors opened, and he stepped out, walking to her door. Silently, he cracked it open.

Abby Scutio, Forensic Scientist Extraordinaire was standing at her computer, running facial recognition. Her hair was out of her signature pigtails, and her beloved dog collar was carelessly flung onto a shelf. From the dust that was collecting on it, he guessed that it hadn't been touched in years.

No hard rock played. In its place was Frank Sinatra. Tacked onto the side of her computer was a picture of her kissing his cheek.

Tony sighed. She missed him.

He stepped quietly into the lab. He paused in the doorway, unsure of how to proceed. He opted for clearing his throat.

Abby turned around, clearly expecting Gibbs.

Her mouth dropped open, and her eyes grew as wide as saucers. _"No."_

She walked up to him, boots clunking on the hard floor.

"No." She hesitantly reached a hand up, and touched the side of his face.

She stood there, frozen, her gray eyes boring into his green ones.

He reached his hand up and placed it over hers.

"_Oh, my God. _Oh. My. God." He thought she was going to slap him when she pulled him against her into a bone-crushing hug. _"You're alive," _she whispered.

She pulled back, and it hit her.

"Tony! Oh my- you're here! Alive! As in, not dead- which was what everyone thought you were! Not me, I didn't think it for a second, I didn't want to, I couldn't, I mean I'd know if you were gone! I told everyone that! And you are! I've missed you so, so much, and I'd heard rumors that you were back which have happened before so I didn't-"

"Abby," Tony cut her off.

"Sorry, but I'm just so happy, and-" She slapped the back of his head. "That's for leaving, mister!"

Tony smiled, a rarity for him nowadays. "I've missed you too, Abs." He frowned for a moment. "Abby, I need to see the bullets that the Petty Officers were shot with."

"Hold on a moment-" Abby said. She clomped over to her desk, and grabbed two elastics. After pulling her hair into pigtails, she grabbed her dog collar and fastened it around her neck. She smeared black lipstick over her lips.

She grinned at him and saluted. "Abby Scutio, forensic scientist extraordinaire, at your service!"

After about a thousand hugs from Abby, Tony left the lab.

That was why he liked Abby. She didn't judge him, didn't ask where he's been. She didn't ask why he acted differently. She just let him know she missed him. He was going to miss her once he was back at the ECTF Headquarters.

He had to go to Autopsy to see the bodies of the men who were shot..

He looked in the window of the Autopsy doors. Ducky and Jimmy worked over a corpse quietly, only speaking when they found something or to pass a tool between the two of them. He stepped so that the door's motion sensors would register his presence. Ducky didn't turn to greet him. "Ah, Jethro, I have not found anything just yet, but-"

"Doctor." Jimmy cut him off, gawking at Tony.

"Yes, Mr. Palmer?"

Jimmy shakily pointed a finger towards Tony, unable to form any words.

"What is it, Jeth-" He began as he turned. "Oh. Oh, my."

Tony stood, his expression impassive.

"My dear friend." Ducky simply stated, staring at Tony.

Tony let a ghost of a smile touch his face. Ducky crossed the floor, and clasped his shoulder. "I cannot express, with words, the sadness your absence has caused us all."

He released Tony from the hug, squeezing his shoulder and giving him a meaningful look. "Now, I presume you have some sort of business down here?"

"I do. I need to see the bodies of the unidentified petty officers."

"Of course. I do hope to learn what has happened to you in your absence. I can see from your appearance that you have been through much- maybe later, over a glass of Scottish Proof?"

Tony nodded. "What I am at liberty to tell, I will be more than happy to share."

While Tony visited Abby and Ducky, Gibbs signaled for Ziva and McGee to follow him. They walked to the break room, and sat around a table. For a few moments, Gibbs was silent as his thoughts spun around in his head.

Gibbs was conflicted, simultaneously feeling lighter than he had in years and also far, far heavier. He had blamed himself for Tony's disappearance, because it was, in fact, his fault. He didn't have Tony's six, instead choosing to fulfill a personal vow of revenge against a terrorist. He felt less guilty now, knowing that Tony had somehow, against all odds and what everyone had said for years, survived.

However, he didn't know what happened to Tony. Whatever it was clearly changed him.

Tony wasn't the man Gibbs had come to love as a sort of surrogate son. The laughter and sparkle in his eyes was gone. The snarky attitude was intact, but had manifested itself in a much darker form. Tony was cold to him, and barely even spared he, McGee, or Ziva a glance through the course of the day. The scenes from the last time he saw Tony played over in his head.

_Tony stood outside of a warehouse, undercover as a greedy politician who was looking to sell government secret. Dressed impeccably in a expensive suit, he was in his element. Gibbs acted as his personal bodyguard, and Ziva played his pretty young girlfriend. Tony had the part of the politician down perfectly, sidestepping all of the questions from the Hamas terrorist he was speaking to with a 1000-watt smile._

_As Tony conferred with the man, he began to suspect that the terrorist knew something was up. His concern was furthered when two more terrorists began to lurk nearby, watching him hungrily. He began to talk his way out of the situation, realizing that they needed to get out, fast. Gibbs was furious when he realized that Tony was shutting down their undercover operation. He pulled Tony out of earshot of the terrorists._

_Both Gibbs and Ziva harbored a deep grudge against the terrorist at the head of the cell. They glared at Tony lividly, enraged that he would jeopardize their chance to get to the man they both hated. "What the hell do you think you're doing, DiNozzo?" Gibbs growled.  
_

"_They suspect us- we need to get out now." Tony whispered back._

"_No chance I'm letting this pass by. I'm going to clean up the mess you made, get the bastard, and fire your incapable ass."_

_Tony's cheeks grew red. Gibbs and Ziva turned away from him. "Worthless idiot," Ziva hissed. Tony looked as if he had been slapped. He watched while Gibbs and Ziva marched over to the terrorists and began talking to them. Ziva continually motioned towards him. _

_A few minutes later, Gibbs, Ziva, and the two terrorists turned to him. Ziva looked triumphant. Gibbs also looked satisfied, but slightly – guilty? Gibbs didn't meet Tony's eyes as the terrorist grabbed his arm and hissed, "Coward. You thought you could back out of this deal." _

_Tony struggled as another terrorist grabbed his arm and began dragging him towards the warehouse behind them. He frantically looked to Gibbs for help, who mouthed, "We'll be back tonight."_

_Those words proved untrue. When Gibbs led a team back to raid the warehouse that night, Tony and the terrorists were no longer there. Tony turned out to be right- the terrorists had realized something was up and cleared out, taking Tony with them._

Gibbs snapped out of his trance. Ziva was looking at him, the confusion and guilt in her brown eyes mirroring that in his. McGee watched him as well, his expression showing bewilderment and blame.

Gibbs cleared his throat. "I have no idea how Tony is alive. We'll find out. McGee- hack whatever the hell you think will get us some information on Tony and his team. Ziva-."

"Gibbs, I have spoken with my father. He stated that the terrorists interrogated Tony for months. He was found by the MCRT and began working with them."

Gibb's cellphone buzzed before he could respond. "Gibbs."

"_GIBBS-GIBBS-GIBBS." _Abby's voice screeched over the phone. _"TONY- HE'S ALIVE. HE JUST SHOWED UP IN MY LAB AND-"_

"Abs. I know." Gibbs cut her off.

"_You knew? Why didn't you tell me? He-"  
_

"I only found out a few minutes ago."

"_Gibbs." _Abby said carefully, _"He's different."_

Gibbs would've smiled at the understatement if he weren't so troubled by it himself. "Yeah, Abs, I know."


	8. Chapter 8

McGee left Gibbs and Ziva sitting at the table.

_Tony is alive. My mentor, my brother, my best friend, is back,_ continually resonated in his thoughts. He had believed the man to be dead.

He didn't want to be around Gibbs and Ziva at the moment. He blamed them for Tony's disappearance- he watched the whole thing from MTAC. For the first few months after Tony was gone, McGee was unable to look at either of them. He had pretended that he reverted to being the scared Probie, but what he really felt was unadulterated rage towards Gibbs and Ziva. Tony was like his brother, and Gibbs and Ziva inadvertently cost Tony his life. Or so he thought. Anyhow, it was only in the past year that his animosity towards them began to subside, fractionally.

McGee decided that it was time to try to talk to Tony, and made his way towards where he was sitting. Mary, however, had other ideas. "Agent McGee?" She appeared next to him, grey eyes wide.

McGee swallowed. "Yeah?"

"Can I talk to you?"

"Uh… sure."

Mary stood up and motioned for him to follow her. She led them to the stairwell, and sat a few stairs down. McGee sat awkwardly on the top step.

Mary sat in silence for a few minutes. Abruptly, she turned to him. "Do ya'll know Agent Bond?"

"Agent _Bond?"_

"Yeah- like James. His choice. You seem like you do…?"

"Uh- yeah." McGee stuttered.

Mary relaxed against the wall. "Do you know him well enough to know his real name?"

"Um. Yeah. Tony."

"Good." Mary smiled. "I feel weird calling him Agent Bond."

"I would, too."

They sat in silence for a few more moments. Mary broke the quiet. "Did you know him, like, before?"

"I did."

"What was he like?"

McGee's forehead creased. "He was… a goofball, never serious. Always referencing movies."

"Strange."

"Why?"

"He's nothing like that now."

McGee sat, contemplating this. It was blatantly obvious that Tony was not the same man not only in appearances, but in nature. There was an aura about him that made the hairs on the back of McGee's neck stand up. He was afraid to ask what Tony was like now.

"Thanks for talking to me." Mary lightly pecked McGee's cheek. "It's good to have a friend outside of my team." She stood and darted up the stairs, leaving McGee alone with a scarlet blush blossoming over his visage.

Gibbs and Ziva returned to the bullpen at the same time as McGee did. Tony sat at a desk, surrounded by his team. The expression on his face was all business.

"This guy is one of them," Tony spoke to Mongo, holding a picture. "I want you to bring him here- I'll talk to him. Stevie, go with him."

Stevie and Mongo nodded, and both were off like a shot towards the elevator. "Mary, Dex, talk to me." They quietly began to discuss the case.

"…_Connection to several members of the House of Representatives."_

"_This is serious shit, if it does the government will want to keep it quiet…"_

" _Goddamn Capital Hill and protocol. Since when are there rules?"_

"…_Slow us down…"_

"…_Kill them if they do."_

"_We need a distraction…"_

"_Try and stop it."_

Gibbs wasn't sure why he still expected Tony to be cracking jokes or telling some outrageous story. Everything about the young man had changed. Power rolled off of Tony in waves, and the bags under his eyes attested to how little sleep he probably got. A frighteningly serious demeanor replaced the class-clown persona Tony was famous for. Gibbs turned to Fornell, who was watching Tony. "You have any idea what's happening?"

"Not a clue. They work on their own wavelength. Never seen anything like it." Gibbs stared at Fornell. Fornell sighed. "Yes, Gibbs, I have worked with DiNutso's team before."

"Yeah, I got that. Why the hell didn't you tell me he was alive?"

"DiNutso, or Agent Bond, asked, and I use the word loosely- _asked_ me not to tell you anything about him."

Gibbs was taken aback. Not only had Tony never informed him that he was alive, but he kept Fornell from telling him?

"Don't take it personally, Gibbs. The ECRT is so classified only the highest-ups in the government are even aware of its existence. Even_ I_ don't know much about it."

"Yeah, Tobias, but Tony's _my_ agent."

" He _was_ your agent." Gibbs glared. Fornell smiled wistfully. "I wish I grabbed him for the FBI. He would've made one helluva agent…" Gibbs and Fornell's attention was snapped away from their conversation by the shrill sound of a cellphone.

"Agent Bond." Tony spoke quietly into Mary's white iPhone. He sighed, and rolled his eyes. "Yep. This should be good. Bring him up here first- I'll escort him to interrogation."

A few minutes later, Mongo and Stevie returned to the bullpen. Mongo clasped a massive paw on the shoulder of a short white man who was roughly Tony's age. He appeared to be ex-military, and had a buzz cut. The man was muttering obscenities and struggled slightly, but was unable to escape Mongo's giant grip. Tony strode over to the man and stood toe to toe with him. Mary stood behind him.

"Who the hell are you?" The man yelled in a slight Texas accent. The man glared at Mary, who stood behind Tony, staring the man down. "And the tall bitch?"

Tony smirked. "This lovely young woman who you so rudely insulted and I are your worst nightmare."

**Hey, I don't own NCIS**

**And this is crazy;**

**But I love hearing from you,**

**So review me mabye?**


	9. Chapter 9

_**Hi there, lovelies!**_

**_As usual, I don't own NCIS. That honor is Don Bellesario's._**

**_Sorry about the sporadic updates, I have exams and am studying like a madwoman. Ah, highschool woes. In any case, after I finish they should become far more regular. I'm still writing this, so reviews would be magnificent._**

**_A warning - torture, though not graphic._**

Gibbs, Vance, Fornell, Kort, Eli, Malachi, and Director Meloy all stood in the observation room of Interrogation, watching Tony, and Mary question the man. Tony circled the man, while Mary rested against the glass.

All was quiet for a few minutes.

"Welcome to interrogation." Tony said, breaking the silence. "Mr…" He looked at the file on the table, "Withers."

"So. What do you want from me?" Withers grunted

"You know what we want," Tony spoke quietly. "Your dealings with our friends at Al Qaeda."

"I'm not telling you a goddamn thing."

Mary reached slowly into her pocket and pulled out a switchblade. _Casually_, she flicked it open and shut, seemingly fascinated by the light that off of it. She twirled it _casually_ around her fingers, and then _casually_ held it so that the light reflected shone directly in Withers' eyes. Behind the glass, Gibbs had to smile. He thought he might like Mary after all.

Tony bent closer to Withers. "Are you really sure that's the route you want to take?"

Withers scoffed. "There's nothing you can do to make me talk." He spat in Tony's face.

"You really, really shouldn't have done that." Mary said ominously.

Tony grinned sadistically at him before wiping the spit off of his face. Gibbs saw Tony making some sort of three-fingered hand signal towards Meloy behind his back.

Behind the glass, director Meloy pulled a phone out of her pocket, and tapped the screen. A few seconds later, Vance's assistant's voice crackled over the rarely used loudspeaker. "Director Vance? Secretary of State wants you to contact him. Needs a representative from Mossad, CIA and the FBI. "

Eli David smiled. "Director. Take Malachi. I am not needed, and I would like to watch this." Vance nodded, and left immediately. Malachi followed Vance out of the room, casting a regretful glance over his shoulder.

"I would as well," Kort hummed lowly, stepping into the room.

Fornell sighed. "I'm no fool. I'm staying."

Gibbs gut was doing jumping jacks.

On the other side of the glass, Withers was still shooting his mouth off, the veins pulsing in his neck and spittle flying everywhere with every word. "What're you gonna do? There's nothing that you pussy little government agencies can do to me."

In an instant, Tony threw his chair aside and was behind Withers. He pulled Wither's head back by his hair. "Au contraire, Mr. Withers." He growled, frighteningly calm.

"This is illegal. You're f-in' NCIS. You can't hurt me," Withers ground out through gritted teeth and the tears brought to his eyes by Tony's grip on his hair.

Mary began to advance towards them slowly, dangerously. "We're not NCIS."

"Right-o, Bloody Mary. That's where you're wrong, Withers-oh-boy. We are neither pussy, nor NCIS, and we can do whatever-" Tony paused midsentence and kicked the table away, "The hell we want."

"You, behind the glass, stop them! They're _insa-" _Withers yelled, cut off by the palm of Tony's hand smashing into his face.

Gibbs blinked, stunned. He began to move out of the room to go and stop Tony, but Fornell grabbed his shoulder, stopping him. Gibbs looked questioningly at Fornell, his gaze pleading for Fornell to tell him that this was just a temporary loss of temper by Tony that could be handled by Mary. Fornell met his eyes and exhaled, giving a slight shake 'no' of his head.

Gibbs turned back to look out of the glass. Horror filled him as he watched Tony and Mary coerce Withers for answers.

"Are we feeling more compliant now?" Tony asked Withers, who sat clutching his nose. Withers glared at him from between his bloody fingers. Tony nodded almost imperceptibly to Mary. Mary sighed with faux boredom and put her fingers on the back of Withers' neck. With a quick flick of her wrist, she squeezed the nerve at the base of his skull. Withers let out a blood curdling yell that made everyone behind the glass wince.

Tony nodded again to Mary, who stopped and dropped her hand to her side like a dead weight. "_Where is the cell located_?" He whispered acidly in Withers ear, green eyes a dark, poisonous green. Withers grit his teeth. He scrubbed at the tears rolling down his face and took a few shaky breaths. He shook his head to indicate that he wasn't going to talk.

Gibbs had to sit down against the wall in the back of observation as he watched Tony and Mary torture Withers into telling them what he knew.

"Knife," Tony said to Mary. She pulled out the switchblade that she was playing with earlier and casually tossed it to him. "You know, we try not to make too many permanent marks. You won't even have to get your nose set- it's broken perfectly. "But…" He paused, flicking the knife open; "You really make it hard for yourself." He grabbed the knife and softly poked the tips of each of wither's fingers with it, taunting, "Eenie, Menie, minie, moe, which one of these fingers is first to go?" Withers' Adam's apple bobbed up and down. He quaked with fear, and fat droplets of sweat beaded on his forehead.

On the other side of the glass, Gibbs couldn't move or breathe. Fornell looked like he was going to be sick. He lurched for a trashcan as Tony pressed the blade of the knife into the man's pinkie, eliciting a shriek of agony.

Mary took his hand, and smiled cruelly. "That bad? It's just a flesh wound." She peered at it. "About-" She said, twisting the bloody finger and provoking another howl from Withers, "A quarter-inch deep." Withers glared at her. "Maybe we should clean it for you, to make sure it doesn't get infected." She grinned. "If you're lucky, I might even kiss it better afterwards," she cackled in mock-flirtation.

Tony handed her a small vial. Mary twisted the cap off, and tapped a few drops into the cut. Withers began to scream and writhe like his entire hand had been set on fire. Unable to watch anymore, Gibbs bolted from the observation room. Mongo stood in the entry of interrogation hall, clearly ready to intercept anyone. He shot Gibbs a glare, which Gibbs ignored. He slumped against the wall and willed himself not to vomit, unable to erase the image of Tony dragging a blade through the man's hand from his mind.

About five minutes later, Tony emerged from the interrogation room, looking drained. He spoke to Mongo. "We didn't do too much damage to the bastard. Get Dex to clean him up."

The door of interrogation opened, and Meloy, Eli, Fornell, and Kort stepped out. "That was quick," Eli said to Tony, impressed.

"He was weak," Kort interjected. "You barely even made a mark on him."

Tony punched the button for the elevator. Meloy, Eli, Fornell, and Kort all stepped in. He turned to Mary, who stood just outside the door to interrogation. Her jaw clenched and unclenched, and her face was a hard mask. "Mary, stairwell." Tony gently commanded. She nodded, and walked robotically over to the stairwell. Tony followed her.

Gibbs trailed behind them, staying a flight below where Mary and Tony sat. He watched the reflection of Tony and Mary on the metal wall of the stairwell. Mary stood against the metal wall of the stairwell. She pressed her back against the wall, every muscle in her body rigid. Her eyes were closed tightly as if to block out the world. "You okay?" Tony said quietly. Gibbs stifled a scoff. Was _she _okay? _She, _and not the man they just tortured? He had to blink away the image of Tony smashing his fist into the man's nose.

"Yeah." Mary said, still standing rigidly. "I want to go to the gym. Work out and- just- uh,"

Tony tapped under her chin. "No problem, Giraffe." He flipped his cell phone open. "Mongo. Tell Dexter and Stevie to meet us in the NCIS gym."

Gibbs slipped into the shadows under the stairs as Tony and Mary jogged down them. He didn't miss the furious green eyes that locked on his.

Gibbs flipped his cell open and hit speed dial #2. McGee picked up on the first ring. "Special Agent McGee," the SFA's voice chirped over the phone.

"Muh-Gee. You and Ziva, gym. Now."


	10. Chapter 10

**A longer chapter, sorry about taking extra long to update... Good news, this one's a little longer. Bad news, it'll be longer before the next one. I have exams all this week, and will be horrifically busy. Only a steady supply of caffeine through insane hours of the night brought this one to you. I can't count the number of venti something-or-others I've drank in the past week.**

**As always, I don't own NCIS. Disclaimer: Disclaimed.**

**I really appreciate your reviews, but am far too exhausted to make up some cute little bit thanking you for them. I'm working super hard, and any feedback would be MAGNIFICENT.**

**Love you all. Here's the chapter. Yours in fiction and an ardent love of DiNozzo, mmow.**

The MCRT assembled in the gym ten minutes later, clad in sweats. Mossad, Fornell, and Kort showed up a few minutes afterwards, also eager to observe the ECTF's fighting skills.

The members of the ECTF trickled in one by one. The various NCIS personnel who were working out in the gym stared at Mongo as he worked out. He sat at one of the racks, benching a 300-pound weight like it was nothing. Dexter and Stevie emerged from the locker room and casually began working punching bags. Either man's bag swung wildly, coming dangerously close to being knocked out of the ceiling. After a few minutes Mary sauntered out of the women's locker room. Ziva had to elbow McGee, who stared at Mary's very long, legging-clad legs as she stretched in numerous seemingly impossible yoga positions. Tony was the last to emerge. All the women in the gym simultaneously swooned, and Ziva had to stifle a gasp.

The physical changes to Tony were enormous. Whatever cellulite had been on his body four years ago was replaced by hard, lean muscle. The tight Under Armor athletic shirt he wore showed off broad, strong shoulders and a well-defined six-pack. The full-length black athletic mesh pants he wore gave away the outline of his long legs, which looked like those of an Olympic runner.

Tony jogged effortlessly to the edge of the sparring ring and climbed in. He raised an eyebrow at the ECTF. "Who goes first?"

Dexter began to volunteer, but Mary spoke up. "How about you, Bossman?"

Tony shook his head. "Not now, Stevie. You and Dexter, take a round with Mongo." Stevie looked and Mongo and exaggeratedly crossed himself. Tony rolled his eyes at the theatrics of his team member before hopping out of the ring, leaving Mongo, Dexter and Stevie in the center, ready to face off.

Mongo fought both Stevie and Dexter in a manner that was almost comical. Dexter and Stevie tried to tag-team Mongo. They were both excellent fighters, however, their skill and agility was no match for Mongo's massive size and strength. Mongo allowed both men to dance around him for a few minutes, getting in a few kicks and blows. Soon enough, he got bored and delivered a bone-crunching punch to both that had either man sprawled on his back, gasping for air. His incredible physique combined with his fighting skills made him lethal. Mongo's fights were entertaining, but very unevenly matched. "Just…" _huff… _"a lucky…" _gasp…_ "shot…" Dexter wheezed as Mongo hauled him to his feet. Stevie didn't comment, electing to remain on his back while he gasped for air.

Gibbs was highly amused. Dexter's denial of the fact that Mongo completely demolished him in the ring was reminiscent of a much younger Tony at NCIS. He glanced at McGee to see if he noticed, but as usual as of late, McGee's eyes were trained solely on Mary.

Mary bounced on the balls of her feet outside of the ring. "So, who's gonna spar with Mary?" Tony asked. He didn't yell, but his voice carried through the gym in a way so that all inside could hear it. Dexter, Stevie and Mongo ducked away.

"C'mon, boys, I don't bite." Mary grinned. "I only punch and kick. I rarely inflict permanent injury, though."

"I will spar with you, if you wish." Ziva piped up. She jumped up and down a few times to warm herself up.

McGee, for reasons he couldn't explain, felt extremely worried about Mary. Ziva had always been a lethal fighter, even by Mossad standards. For some reason he couldn't explain, he didn't want the young woman, being Mary, to get hurt. His stomach balled up into a knot in his throat as Ziva and Mary climbed into the ring.

Ziva and Mary faced each other. Ziva adopted the classes Krav Maga stance with her feet spaced out to shoulder width, her torso facing forward, and her hands curled slightly and held up in front of her. Mary chose the stance of a boxer, with the variation of having open hands. The two women stood, sizing each other up.

Ziva made the first blow, trying to strike at Mary's stomach. Mary spun gracefully out of the way. "This is not a ballet, yes?" Ziva grumbled.

"I hope to hell not. I'm a terrible dancer," Mary snickered. Ziva, thinking she distracted Mary, tried to hit Mary's side. Mary blocked it and returned a hard elbow to Ziva's teeth. Ziva hissed with pain. She struck back at Mary, catching Mary's hand and flipping her. Somehow, Mary rolled away from Ziva's grasp and onto her side. Propelling herself off of her hands, she kicked her leg out, landing a brutal blow into Ziva's side. Ziva staggered, but maintained her balance and struck down at Mary with her hand. Mary caught her hand and used Ziva's own momentum to flip her over her head. Ziva tried to get up, but Mary had her pinned with her legs.

Everyone stared, shocked to say the least. This newcomer, 6'0 and barely older than college age, just took down _Mossad Assasin Ziva David._. Fornell was the first to regain use of his tongue and speak. "What style of Martial Arts was that?"

The shock disappeared from Eli David's face and he grinned widely. "My friend, that was Ninjitsu. Is that illegal in the United States?"

"Completely."

The whole gym stared at Ziva. She remained on her back; the wind having been knocked out of her by the force Mary threw her to the ground with. Mary delicately hopped out of the ring but cast a semi-apologetic look over her shoulder. "You okay over there, Ziva?"

"Why… Did you not tell me… That you are… _Actually…_ A ninja?" Ziva huffed, staggering to her feet.

"Didn't come up."

Ziva rolled her eyes the best she could manage with her heavily damaged pride and slowly walked to the edge of the ring. She warily eyed the side she had to climb over. Tony nodded to Mongo, who walked over to Ziva and lifted her, despite her feeble protests, out of the ring like a rag doll. Stevie and Dexter snickered, and Mary smiled sympathetically.

Tony was stoic for the duration of this, though a faint spark of amusement flickered in his eyes. "My team, showers."

"Wait, Bossman!" Mary jumped up and down. "You haven't fought anyone yet."

Tony raised an eyebrow and turned to his team. "Spar. I haven't sparred with anyone." _If I fought them, I'd simply kill them, _he added mentally but refrained from voicing. "I don't think there's anyone who would, unless one of you want to take a round with me?"

Stevie's face quirked into a smile, and he gestured towards Malachi. "We've got our friend from Mossad here for a little roughhousing."

Everyone turned to look at Malachi, who wore the calm mask of emotionlessness that was typical for Mossad. "I will be happy to spar with Agent Bond, if he is unafraid,"

Tony shrugged, and Malachi climbed into the ring.

McGee was worried for Tony. Malachi was _Kideon, _for Chrissakes! Tony was always more of a brawler, wildly throwing punches and using whatever was in reach. His blind strength was no match for the cool and deadly style of Krav Maga. He was about to have his ass handed to him.

Ziva wasn't so concerned; too busy licking her wounds from the fight with Mary. She wasn't in much of a mood to be feeling any concern for a member of the ECTF, even if said member _was _her former partner.

Tony and Malachi faced each other in the center of the ring. Malachi adopted a defensive stance similar to the one Ziva took. He fidgeted slightly and bounced on the balls of his feet. Tony faced him, completely relaxed. Only the bright electricity sparkling in his eyes gave away the burning alertness that coursed through him.

Ziva couldn't help but cringe as Malachi threw out a hard jab to the left. Tony lithely stepped out of the way, a taunting smile spreading over his lips. Malachi's face grew red with irritation.

_Harah, _Ziva thought in spite of herself as Malachi began a Krav Maga takedown sequence. The expression on Gibbs and McGee's faces mirrored her thoughts. They had seen Ziva use this sequence; it was particularly lethal.

Malachi began to reach for the back of Tony's neck. However, Tony somehow knew that this was coming. He quickly ducked away from Malachi's grasp, and grabbed the hand that was still reaching for him. Quickly, he twisted it back towards him, flipping Malachi onto his back.

Gibbs let out a slow breath of air. Where did Tony learn _that?_

Tony let go of Malachi and allowed him up. Malachi looked enraged. If he had been a cartoon, steam would've been shooting out of his ears. Tony was a picture of calm.

Malachi began a sort of dance around Tony, striking in quick, sharp movements. Finally, Malachi backed off slightly, positioning himself to jump on Tony and flip him. Apparently, this was what Tony was waiting for. He let Malachi take the first few steps towards him and struck out, catching Malachi in the gut. He spun and kicked Malachi in the face, and then swept out with his arm, slamming Malachi facedown into the mat.

Malachi lay on the ground, grunting in pain. Tony dusted off his hands and climbed out of the ring. He hadn't even broken a sweat.

"You didn't even try," laughed Mary.

Tony rolled his eyes. "Showers. You smell like a SST."

Thirty minutes later, Tony stepped out of the elevator clad in black cargos, combat boots and a tight black t-shirt. He shook the water droplets from his hair, which was still slightly damp from his shower. The only other people in the Bullpen were Mary, Mongo, Stevie, and… McGee.

"_TO-NY," _Mary sing-songed, spinning in her chair to face Tony. She hadn't showered and was sitting at McGee's desk, typing furiously at his computer. McGee awkwardly stood a few feet behind her. "Timmy here was a dear and let me use his computer to look up some stuff. He's as good of a hacker as Dexter." She paused. "Don't tell Dexter I said that. "

"Too late," Dexter growled, emerging from the men's restrooms, clad in sweats.

"Don't be so grouchy, Dex. You know I love you. Anywho, I was saying that we could use another guy like McGee at ECTF. Do you like Tim, Tony?"

McGee's head swiveled to Tony, whose face remained apathetic. However, mirth sparkled in his eyes. "Yeah, Mary, I do."

"McGee's such a nice guy, isn't he?" She said, smiling charmingly at McGee. Butterflies floated in his stomach, but he smiled warmly back.

"Yeah, Mar, he is," Tony chuckled, looking at the slightly bashful expression on McGee's face.

McGee internally celebrated- Tony didn't seem to harbor any grudge against him.

Dexter looked at Tony, baffled. "You just chuckled."

"Mary tends to cause that, once in a blue moon. _Speaking of Mary,_ I presume you found something?"

"Would I be wasting your time if I didn't?" Mary huffed indignantly, "Come see this. Satellite imaging, courtesy of Tim."

Tony jogged over and looked at the screen. It was a video of a darkened empty street in an industrial area. "And?" Tony asked.

"Do your magic, Tim." Mary smiled. McGee complied and fast-forwarded it. He then hit a few buttons. The image cleared and zoomed in.

"_Shit,"_ Tony swore under his breath. Stevie, Dexter, and Mongo spun from the desks where they were sitting.

"Something wrong, Bossman?" Stevie questioned.

"We've got a Russian mafia boss dealing with an Al Qaeda leader. "

"Oh-oh! And that's not all!" Mary snorted. Tony watched as another car pulled up on the screen. Several tall men in black suits stepped out, followed by a shorter man in a bright red tie.

Tony let out a low string of expletives. "Did you get the audio?"

"Got it right here." Dexter called and threw a set of wireless headphones to Tony. Tony slipped them on, and listened. He let out a longer string of curses and pulled out his cell phone.

"Mel? Yeah. We've got a politician, the Russian mafia, and Al Qaeda." Stevie let an even more profane slur loose. Mongo cracked his knuckles. "Strike op advised." Tony barked and hung up. "Strike op tomorrow. The trio is meeting again at the terrorist base. We'll take them down."

McGee had no idea what a strike op was. He was about to ask when Vance's voice boomed from the top of the steps. "Agent Bond. You will have to co-run the operation with our MCRT."

"_What?" _Dexter gasped.

"No way in _hell," _Stevie growled.

"This is a joint operation. Protocol." Vance replied, face stoic.

"Since _when _do we follow protocol?" Dexter cried.

"We _don't, _usually. However, Capital Hill decided this would be a good time to shove their little rulebook under our noses." Mary grumbled.

Tony shot her a look before turning to Vance. "We'll take them. Less painful that way, less toes stepped on. They stay the hell out of our way, are sworn to secrecy about everything that happens, and follow _all _of my orders. No argument."

"Agent Bond-" Vance snapped. "You are not in a position to be giving orders here."

Tony jogged up the stairs and stood toe-to-toe with Vance. His posture screamed dominance as he towered over Vance, who shrunk slightly under Tony's intense glare. "Actually, I _am_. If we want to take the threat down, we follow _my _command."

Gibbs, who had walked into the Bullpen while Tony was talking on the phone, felt a surge of anger. He had been feeling frustrated in not knowing what was going on since Tony came back, and that feeling was only magnified after the interrogation and sparring matches. He jogged up the stairs to face Tony, wanting to take him down a notch. "And what makes ya so sure of your ability to do so?"

"Agent Gibbs," Tony turned, regarding him coldly. "You think you could do this better than I could?"

Gibbs was taken aback by Tony's poisonous attitude towards him. The Tony he knew would've never committed a direct act of insubordination. "_DiNozzo_." He said, putting an emphasis on the supposedly classified Italian last name. "Chain of command."

Tony let out a loud laugh. "Agent Bond to you, Agent Gibbs, and actually, you hold no power over me. You haven't been my boss for what, five years?" The ECTF gasped- Agent Gibbs was Tony's boss? Gibbs blinked at the obvious blame and disgust in Tony's voice. _Tony hates us,_ he realized. He was too stunned to speak.

Vance, seeing Gibbs unable to respond, tried to regain some sense of control over the situation. "Agent Di-." He paused. "Agent Bond. Even so, I am-"

"You're not, either." Mary called from down the stairs. She pulled a small item out of her pocket and chucked it up to Tony. He caught it with one hand and held it out for Vance and Gibbs to see. Vance immediately paled.

Gibbs stared at the small leather badge case Tony held. "And?" Tony smiled smugly, clearly enjoying the moment. He undid the metal button and flipped it open to reveal a metal badge. Gibbs peered at it and the presidential insignia on it. He saw writing at the bottom and read.

_As the President of the United States, I hereby grant the ECTF and it's respective leader, Agent "Bond," unlimited power and means over all federal agencies and their respective leaders…_

Gibbs stopped reading and slowly raised his icy blue eyes to meet the sharp green of Tony's. His mouth dropped open.

"I apologize, Agent Bond." Vance said, his shock written all over his face. "I was unaware you had precedence over all other federal institutions."


	11. Chapter 11

**Sorry about the long delay! I wrapped up exams and the speed I am posting chapters should improve. Forgive me for the delay! **

**Still don't own NCIS. Curse you, Donald P. Bellesario! (JK, Don, You know I love you.)**

**Reviews are MAGNIFICENT, SPECTACULAR, AMAZING, and many other positive adjectives that I don't want to think of right now.**

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**mmow**

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Tony shot both men a glare that could've frozen the equator. "Good, now we're all crystal clear." He leveled his eyes with one shell-shocked Leroy Jethro Gibbs. "You and David may observe. Compliance, not cooperation."

_He hates us _continuallyresounded in Gibb's mind. He was unable to respond.

Tony was slightly amused by the unflappable agent and known bastard being stunned into silence. However, he didn't have the time to relish it and turned back to his team. "Mossad may or may not choose to operate with us. Fornell knows better." He barked. He smirked wryly. "If Kort values his balls, he won't." He tossed the carte blanche badge back down to Mary, who triumphantly slid it into her pocket.

"What about me?" McGee piped up from the bottom of the steps.

"I want you on standby to hack. I need Dexter for the operation." McGee nodded eagerly.

_No, he doesn't hate __**us**__-_ Gibbs realized, _he hates Ziva and I, and rightly so._

Tony leaned over the rail to address his team. "You all sleep. You have –" He checked his watch. "Nine hours."

Dexter let out a hoot. "_Hell _yes. More than a full night's worth!"

"Nice job with the time telling, Dexter. McGee, stay here tonight. I have to get you accustomed to the team." McGee nodded again, even more eagerly. "Stop nodding so much, McBobblehead. Your head'll fall off."

McGee almost nodded again, but stopped himself. "Uh, sure, To-" He paused, unsure of what to call Tony. The man had unlimited power over_ all the federal agencies, _after all.

"I'm still Tony to _you_." Tony assured McGee pointedly.

"Sure, Tony."

Tony jogged down the stairs. "Eat something and sleep. We'll crash here." He, Dexter, Mongo, and Stevie all retreated to the desks and began stripping off their gear while downing powerbars. Mary disappeared from the room.

McGee cast one last glance at Gibbs and Vance. Both men stood, mouths agape. He rolled his eyes at them and followed the ECTF. They had left his desk open in the bullpen. He looked around, searching, but was disappointed when he didn't see Mary. Tony appeared by his side, making him leap a mile into the air- _when had he started moving like Ziva?_ "Don't look so disappointed, McGoogle. Mary's too modest to change in the open."

McGee blushed furiously and he began to stammer out an excuse, but was cut off by Dexter. "She can be a prude, especially with all of us-" He glanced at Stevie and Mongo and snorted, "_Men_ around. She was raised Catholic. She refuses to be half-naked in a public place."

"No, I was just- I thought-"

"It's alright, McGee." Stevie chimed in, "She does date."

"But- how did- what did-"

"You've been staring at her since you arrived. I can understand, the Ninjitsu is pretty sexy, and she's got really long legs, and-" Dexter's tirade was cut off by a pack of post-it notes that smashed into his temple. "OW! What the hell was that for?" He glared at Mongo. "I think you just gave me a minor concussion."

Seeing the gap in the conversation Dexter being impaled in the side of the head by sticky notes created, McGee seized the opportunity to speak up. "Tony, can I talk to you privately?"

Tony made eye contact and turned with an almost imperceptible nod, leaving McGee to follow him into the elevator. When it was between floors, he flicked the emergency stop switch.

McGee blatantly stared at Tony. Memories of the times they had shared on the MCRT flashed through his mind, up to the last time he saw him. Elation mixed with confusion flooded through him.

Tony watched the emotions parade across McGee's face. _Kid was never any good at hiding his feelings_. He opened his arms. "Bring it in."

McGee hurled himself into the hug and clapped Tony's back in what he hoped was a manly manner. He slowly pulled away, and sunk down into a seated position against the side of the elevator. "It's actually you."

"Was the last time I checked, McGee," Tony snorted. He leaned against the other side of the elevator and sat, stretching his long legs out in front of him. "Good to see you too."

"What- what _happened?"_

"You saw what happened with Gibbs and Ziva?" McGee's face contorted into one of long-repressed fury. Tony took this as an affirmation. "Short story shorter, I hung with Hamas until the ECTF found me."

"You- _hung out?_" McGee sputtered incredulously before realizing what Tony meant. Pure, unadulturated rage washed over him. "Oh," was all he could manage.

Tony raised his eyebrows and coughed out a dark chuckle. "_Yeah. _Not much fun, but I survived."

"Are you- would you- ah-" McGee struggled for words.

Tony, understanding what McGee was about to ask, shook his head. "I'm not coming back to NCIS."

McGee nodded. "I understand why. It's taken everything in me every day just to not go ballistic on Gibbs and Ziva."

"I appreciate that. It's good to know I still have friends here who want to go ballistic for me. " He cracked his knuckles so loudly McGee winced. "Business time. I need to brief you on the FUBAR situation we're dealing with."

Four minutes later, McGee returned to the bullpen having been fully briefed by Tony about his role for the next day and unfurled the sleeping bag he kept under his desk. It had been there ever since Tony disappeared. McGee never realized the amount of work Tony did as Gibb's second until he was suddenly thrust into the position of SFA. He often had to stay late into the night working to keep up with the massive quantities of paperwork, so it wasn't uncommon for him to sleep there if it was late enough.

He glanced at Mongo, Dexter, and Stevie, whom were all snoring loudly. Shaking his head, he slid into the sleeping bag and closed his eyes. Despite the busy day, he found sleep a near impossibility- his mind was whirling. Excitement combined with apprehension buzzed through his veins at the prospect of working with his old partner.

Tony had been deliberately vague when describing any role but McGee's own in the mission, and McGee got a hinky feeling about the sense of finality in Tony's voice. A few snippets of the conversation raised alarm bells in his mind.

"_I'll be going in solo first to make sure it's safe." _Tony was going in _alone? _That could be like suicide! When McGee questioned him on this note, Tony let out a soul deep sigh. _"This one's gonna be tough; I know that the op will be difficult, even for us. If there are any casualties, I'll make sure they're me."_

Dell, Apple, Inspiron, and Microsoft! Tony had just returned, and he was already prepared to die? He recalled a conversation he had with Tony years ago the day Kate died. Kate confronted Tony in the squadroom after he told her and McGee to run while he diffused a bomb…

_Kate and Tony arrived out of the elevator from autopsy. Kate had her arm around Tony's lower back, lightly supporting his weight as they travelled into the bullpen. He tried to sit down at his desk to get back to work on the case against Ari, but Gibbs ordered him to go down to Abby's lab for. Kate motioned for McGee, then a wee Probie, to get up and help her walk Tony to the elevators. McGee nervously nodded and ran over. The miniscule fraction of weight Tony allowed to rest against McGee attested to just how tired he actually was._

_They stood at the elevators and waited for it to arrive. Kate suddenly shot Tony one of her patented glares. "Why on earth did you come in today? You just got over the plague, for God's sakes!"_

_Tony rolled his eyes; apparently having been over this multiple times already. "I felt mostly fine this morning. Besides, if I didn't, you two would be dead."_

_She nodded, though her face betrayed she didn't really buy the first part. "Why did you tell us to run? The plague- you shouldn't have been able to outrun that bomb!" _

_He shrugged. "But I did."_

_Kate stuck her free hand on her hip, clearly frustrated. "Do you have some sort of death wish?"_

_Tony was so exhausted his normal defenses were down. What he said next stayed with McGee for a long time. "No, but, it's better me killed than someone else."_ _The elevator dinged and Tony slipped out of their grasp and strode into the elevator in a sudden burst of energy neither McGee nor Kate imagined he could still have. _

_McGee turned to Kate after the doors closed. "What did he mean by that?" He only knew Tony as the happy-go-lucky confident SFA that enjoyed tormenting him._

_Kate regarded him, her confusion mirroring his. Something clicked in her mind and a troubled look crossed her face. "He doesn't have any blood-related family that would be crippled if he died. Only his father is still alive, and they don't really speak. He's alone."_

McGee jumped a bit and was shocked out of his thoughts when he felt a foreign weight on his stomach. Surprised, he shot up to see grey eyes peering at him. "Oh, sorry, did I wake you?" Mary murmured, not sounding sorry at all.

He lay back down. "Nah. Wasn't asleep." The weight remained on his stomach, and he peered down to see Mary's sleeping bag laid perpendicular to his midsection. The top of the bag laid on his stomach. He glanced at Mary who appeared almost sheepish.

"I hate sleeping without a pillow, but don't have one in my pack. I was wondering if you could be my pillow?"

"Um. Sure. Yeah."

Mary squatted down next to him, and McGee got a better look at her. Her shoulder length chestnut brown hung in waves around her shoulders. She donned a black cotton tank top with a white sports bra underneath it, and baggy green Victoria's Secret Pink sweatpants. She looked, from McGee's standpoint , incredibly sexy. Flashing a white-toothed smile at him, she plopped down in the sleeping bag and laid her head on his stomach. "Normally I use Tony as my pillow," She observed quietly, "but he seems preoccupied now. I can understand why." She turned on her side so she could see McGee's face and smiled at him. "This is different… but nice." McGee responded with a tentative smile. She burrowed down into the sleeping bag, and after a few minutes her breathing evened out into slow, deep breaths. McGee followed soon after.

From the top of the bullpen, Gibbs watched McGee and Mary, trying to process what all had happened. At one moment, his former SFA was back and all he knew was ecstasy at the simple fact that he was alive. The next minute, he watched him and his team member who was barely more than a kid torture a suspect for answers and then kick the asses of a Mossad assassin and a former Mossad assassin without breaking a sweat in a form of martial arts he was fairly sure was illegal. He'd have to pay a call to M. Allison Hart before this was all over to confirm it was against the law. Finally, Tony waved a fucking _carte blanche _in his face. He could do anything he wanted, anywhere. Gibbs desperately needed to talk to Tony, but couldn't locate the man.

After a while he spotted the angry flash of dark green eyes from the windows of the bullpen. Tony leaned against, features highlighted by the D.C. city lights. Gibbs jogged down the stairs. "Can we talk? My place." Tony nodded slightly and turned, heading for the parking lot.


	12. Chapter 12

**Greetings, all.**

**Here's the next chapter - sorry for the delay, but i found it extremely difficult to write.**

**A warning- at the end of the chapter, the "T" rating comes in to play in my description.**

**I don't own NCIS.**

**Reviews are wonderful. I'm un-beta'd, so if I make mistakes let me know ASAP.**

Gibbs followed Tony down to the parking lot. He stopped in the door of his truck. "You need a ride?"

Tony didn't break his stride as he jogged past Gibbs, not even sparing a glance. "Nah. I got an old jalopy I can drive." A hint of amusement colored his voice

Gibbs accepted this with a slightly miffed nod and climbed into the leather cab of the truck. He turned the key in the ignition and paused momentarily to listen and inhale. After the insanity of the extremely highly emotional day, the familiar smell and rumble of the truck was somewhat comforting.

He collected himself, he pulled out into the deserted streets of Washington, D.C. He drove slightly slower than his normal breakneck speed, occasionally checking his mirrors for any sign of Tony. The ECTF agent was nowhere to be found. He worried momentarily, but resigned, figuring Tony still knew the way to his house. After so many nights of the two of them sharing beer and cowboy steak, how could he not?

The drive was mostly quiet, and Gibbs simply focused on trying to clear his mind for the upcoming confrontation. He would have to be direct, considering Tony hadn't been exactly forthcoming over the past few hours, and get the answers he needed. He would try to reconcile, and see if they could rekindle and rebuild their old relationship.

All of a sudden, the loud roar of an engine broke through the quiet night. A sleek black motorcycle zoomed up around his tail and cut around him. The rider didn't turn at all towards Gibbs, and Gibbs laid on his horn. "Jerk," He growled, along with a string of obscenities that would have made his old marine buddies proud. To his surprise, a few minutes later he found the motorcycle sitting in his driveway. Tony, clad in black cargo pants, hoodie, combat boots, and gloves leaned up against it, clutching a helmet. Gibbs simply stood, taking in the sight of what had become of his former SFA until Tony broke the silence. "Funny. I knew you were a marine, but never got a demonstration of that particular vocabulary until just a few minutes ago." Despite the lighthearted jab, his cold demeanor was still firmly in place and his expressive green eyes completely unreadable.

Gibbs gazed at him trying to decipher Tony's words before shaking his head with a small chuckle. "You're somethin' else." Tony smirked and headed for the eternally unlocked front door of Gibb's house. Gibbs followed him into the dark space and made a beeline for the basement, figuring it was the closest thing they had to a comfort zone at the moment.

They both sat down on wooden stools from under the workbench. Gibbs rested forward on his knees tensely, while Tony casually slouched and leaned back against the wall, seemingly aloof. Gibbs grabbed out a bottle of bourbon out of habit and poured himself some in a mug. He offered the bottle to Tony, who regarded the bottle appreciatively before pouring a miniscule amount in the bottom of a mason jar. He stared at the light passing through the amber liquid, seemingly transfixed.

Gibbs was unsure of what to say or where to begin, so he decided to start off in a relatively light area to test the waters. Despite Tony's relaxed posture, the atmosphere of the basement was exceedingly tense and cold.

"So, DiN-" Gibbs cut himself off before he said the rest of his old cognomen for Tony. From the lack of response from Tony, it seemed the right choice to not call him by name. He cleared his throat awkwardly, trying to cover his flub. "Interesting fighting techniques you've got…"

Tony recognized the evasion for what it was but elected to go along with it. "You enjoyed our little… demonstration?"

_A demonstration, was that what they called it these days?_ "Enjoyed might not be the best choice of words."

"Never fun to see the people who can hand your ass to you have their asses handed to them, is it?"

_Ouch. _ "What form of martial arts was that?"

"Ninjitsu."

"Is that le-"

"No, but the same rules don't apply to us."

Gibbs snorted, remembering the carte blanche Tony shoved under his nose a few minutes earlier. That was definitely true. A surge of anger filled him, and images of Tony and Mary torturing Withers flashed through his mind. How on earth had Tony ended up like this? Time to cut the bullshit. "So, explanation?"

"About what?" Tony cocked an eyebrow, not meeting Gibb's gaze.

"You know what I mean."

Tony chuckled mirthlessly, eyes still fixed on the glass. "What is there to explain? I'm still in the land of the living."

Gibbs huffed in frustration. They had barely said a word and Tony was already avoiding answering his questions. Some things never changed, did they? He took the more direct route. "Why didn't let us know you were alive?"

Tony swirled the bourbon and took a tiny sip. "In the olden days," he began, calming himself into the cool fury he perfected over the years, "I would've come running back to you ASAP, spilled everything verbal-diarrhea style, apologized furiously, and embraced the headslap and rebuke that followed." He slowly rolled his eyes up to meet Gibbs' eyes. The formerly expressive emerald orbs were now a poisonous green, and filled with an absolute hatred. "But the olden days are over. I couldn't contact you, and I didn't think it would matter that much anyways. I am, after all, a worthless ass."

Gibbs huffed indignantly. Tony was caught up on _that?_ "DiNozzo, I didn't mean that, and you know it."

White-hot fury coursed through Tony. However, the past few years and training he received taught him to be calm and not allow the anger to overtake him. "Yeah, I know _that. _Did you mean to leave me to the terrorists? Or was that part of your little _plan_?"

Gibbs swallowed, having no response for that. Time for a slight redirection of course. "What happened?"

Tony scoffed. "For an investigator, you're remarkably clueless."

Gibbs closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. He knew what happened to Tony, though he had been denying it to himself for four years, along with the whole incident.

"Funny-" Tony laughed darkly. "What Saleem and his men used on Ziva were stone-age techniques. What, with access to American technology and resources, my dear friends at the Hamas camp could get _very _creative." Gibbs' imagination was running wild with the thought of what the bastards had done to Tony.

"What-" He almost whispered, and couldn't work out the full sentence. He shook himself, trying to steel his nerves and swallowed against the acid rising in the back of his throat, "What did they do to you?" Tony's expression was unreadable momentarily. The intensity in his gaze made Gibbs wonder if Tony was remembering some of his time in captivity. With a sudden resolve, Tony slowly and deliberately pulled his shirt loose from his BDUs and slowly raised it over his head.

Gibbs drew in a sharp breath at what he saw. The hard, lean muscle that he saw under Tony's t-shirt back at the gym emphasized the various scars from different sources that crisscrossed over his chest and abdomen. Some were older, and had blended into the tan skin while others were still angry and red, but almost all bore the haphazard marking of stitches done by someone who wasn't a professional. Hundreds of puncture marks dotted his abdomen, as did the telltale white lines left by whipping and scourging. In certain parts of his chest, whole chunks of flesh were missing, leaving an indention in the skin. A tree-shaped white discoloration stretched across his hip.

All of this was enough to make Gibbs want to lurch for the nearest garbage can and loose his dinner. However, when Tony did a slow turn to allow Gibbs to take in the full extent of his wounds Gibbs saw the one thing that pierced directly to his heart.

The letters "USA" were burned into his lower back.

**_Just a question… Any interest in hearing the story of how Mary came to ECTF?_**


	13. Chapter 13

**Sorry for the delay. I wanted to get this one right.**

**Disclaimed.**

**Reviews are marvelous. I'm un beta-d, so I really appreciate your feedback.**

Gibbs scrubbed a hand across his face after he finished emptying the contents of his stomach into the nearby wastebasket. Plopping down on his stool leadenly, he suddenly felt far older and much, much heavier. Tony pulled his shirt back on after a moment and stared at the basement door, a far off expression on his face. He absentmindedly traced a long knife scar that ran down his forearm with his pinkie finger, seemingly recalling the incident that had put the scar there. Gibbs struggled to find any words that could begin to describe what he was feeling at the moment. Before he could even say a word, Tony broke the quiet.

"Impressive," he scoffed darkly. Gibbs only looked at him, apprehensive about what Tony was referring to. "You only threw up for thirty seconds. Most of the time it takes at least two minutes for the retching to stop."

"Always that bad?" Gibbs raised an eyebrow at the image of people throwing up at the mere sight of Tony's bare upper body.

"Well," Tony smirked in a dark imitation of humor, "The scars tend to freak out lady friends. Women just don't seem to be attracted to the tortured within an inch of your life thing."

Gibbs would've chuckled had the subject of the joke not been so morbid. One look at Tony told him that the younger man was not in a jovial mood. Rather than risk a laugh, he steeled himself for the next part of the conversation, and willed his traitorous stomach into submission. He took a tentative sip of bourbon. All the alcohol had been purged from his system moments earlier, and he desperately needed a fresh supply. "After... you…" He waved his hand, frustrated, unable to find the correct words.

Tony understood. "…My deliverance?"

Gibbs nodded.

"I was held in a barn in the Virginia countryside." Tony's emerald eyes grew distant, the scene of the day of his rescue playing in his mind.

_The barn was damp, dark, bare, and bone-chillingly cold. Whether it was because of the lack of calories and fat insulation in his body or the actual temperature that was making him feel so chilly, Tony was unsure. At that point, it didn't matter to him. Nothing really did. He gave up on being rescued long ago. He had no idea what day or month it was. Sometimes he found it hard to tell the time of day- It all blurred together into one continuous stream of pain. His original idea of scratching a mark into his skin for each day passed was toast. Most of the marks had healed as time went on, and others were impossible to tell apart from the other open gashes on his abused skin. Too many damned marks, not enough damned room. However, he bitterly mused, even if he could've made the mark it wouldn't have mattered. He was too weak to reach down and make the scratch. _

_It was what he deemed an ordinary day –early morning, as he guessed by the slivers of light slipping into his prison through a crack at the top of a wall. Those same pale beams had brought him away from his much needed sleep and into the dread-filled stretch of time until his captors arrived. He passed the time between when he woke up and when his tormentors showed up as he always did, by replaying scenes from movies that resembled his current situation over and over again in his head. However, after 9 months, the same old stories were getting really tiresome. He had "seen" the torture scene from James Bond: Casino Royale at least at thousand times by that point._

_More sunlight crept into the barn from the doorway, signifying the arrival of one of his "visitors". The heavy metal door of the ban was shoved completely open, causing a ray of light to shine directly in his eyes and his omnipresent headache to flare. Oh well, one small hurt among many didn't make much of a difference. He looked down at his battered body and guessed, by the prominence of his ribs and his inability to remember the last time he ate or even was able to think straight, that he was fairly close to death. Funny, it wasn't the quick, fiery blaze of glory he always hoped for. Instead… Tortured to death by terrorists… He swallowed past the lump that rose in his throat… More like the burning out of a candle… At the hands of his so-called "friends."_

_Oh, well. If he was going down, at least he could go down doing what he did best. Being a smartass. "Hey, man," he rasped, throat too abused to force out any more than a whisper, "Cut off the blinders, will you? Common fucking courtesy." A masculine-sounding snort sounded from the visitor into his prison. To his surprise, the man came no further into the barn. Tony neither felt strong enough or any desire to look up, but continued his tirade nevertheless. "What? Are you a little probie-terrorist? Amazed that the incredibly dashing and charming American infidel isn't dead yet?"_

_The sound of a low voice murmuring into a walkie-talkie was all Tony could hear, but he could make out the language that was used…_

_English. Oh, thank God. The strange combination of Romantic and Germanic languages was absolute music to his ears, from the lips of a terrorist or not. "You don't sound like my usual visitor,"_

"_That's because," a cool female voice said as more light was let into the barn, "We're not."_

_Despite the exhaustion that sat like lead in every fiber in his being, Tony managed to roll his head up to look at the new woman in the room. However, in the now dim lighting he could only make out the outline of a gun. Some sort of automatic weapon with a silencer, pointed directly at his head. He laughed._

"_If you want something, you're not gonna get it. My friends here have been trying for," he glanced at the marks on his legs for some sort of reference but came up with nothing, "Well, actually, I have no idea how long, but it's been a good while. I'm still not talking. And considering I'm roughly a week from dying from a multitude of things, you'd actually be doing me a favor and speeding the process if you just killed me. Death threats are pointess."_

_The woman stepped into view. She was slender, with a pretty angular face, black hair, and black eyes. Everything about her oozed danger. "Who are you?"_

_He laughed. Who was he? What a question. Anthony Dominic DiNozzo, cop, but beyond that he had no fucking idea anymore. Could you be a movie buff and a playboy if you hadn't seen any women or films in months? Could you be a federal agent if you hadn't seen your team, badge, or gun in god-knows-how-long? And who was this woman, anyways? Could she be trusted? It was time for what he did second-best. Diversion. "Such a pretty terrorist."_

_The gun didn't waver. "Charming, but what the hell are you doing here?"_

_Tony glanced around dramatically. Was it not blatantly obvious? "Well, if my calculations are correct, and don't take my word on this, I'm only basing this on the evidence I have, I'd say I'm being tortured, oh, sorry, interrogated, for Intel by some of Hamas's finest."_

"_Name?"_

_Tony glared at her. She didn't look like a terrorist, but you could never be too careful. "Who are you? How do I know you're not one of my sadeeks here?"_

_The woman smiled. "We're not." _

"_Then who?"_

_She looked at him, appraising him and seemed to reach a decision. Expertly flipping the safety on the gun and sliding the strap over her shoulder, she lowered it away from his head. "Director Meloy of the Elite Classified Task Forces."_

"_Never heard of you."_

"_That's the general idea." Meloy walked around him and cut the ropes binding his hands behind his back. His arms, having been bound in some way or another for the past nine months, fell limply to his sides. He winced as the blood rushed back into his fingertips. She bent over him, her face inches from his. "And you are…" A smile lit up her face. "Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo of NCIS."_

_Shit, the mysterious but attractive lady knew his name? How? "How'd you know that?"_

"_We know a lot of things." The woman cut the ropes binding his feet. "You're supposed to be dead."_

"_Could be. This is a pretty convincing Hell."_

_The woman chuckled and wolf-whistled. A massive man jogged into the barn, followed by a short African American male. Mongo and Stevie. "Mel?" both asked._

"_Mongo, help Agent DiNozzo up. This, my dear large friend, is our lucky day." Mongo picked Tony up out of the chair and carried him out, bridal-style. She patted his arm and fell in step alongside Mongo and Stevie. "Welcome to ECTF."_

"Wait," Gibbs said, not wanting to believe what he heard. "You were tortured for _nine_ months?"

Tony chuckled. "And four days. I tripled Agent David's record. Could've gotten pregnant and had a kid in that time, and no one would've been the wiser." Gibbs couldn't laugh, couldn't move. _Nine freaking months. How the did he survive? And return sane. _He cast a glance at Tony. _Might have to revisit the sane thing._

"What happened after that?"

Tony scratched his chin, the faint sound of his fingers scraping against the stubble audible in the silent basement. "Meloy took me back to the ECTF headquarters. After I was coherent enough to talk to her, she asked me to join."

"Why?" Gibbs couldn't help but ask.

"I was the perfect candidate. Alone, believed to be dead. They knew about my undercover work, apparently had an eye on me for a while. Besides, I couldn't return to NCIS- I managed to get classified intel from the terrorists while they tried to do the same to me, and I found out who ECTF were. They started my training for me to be an agent."

Gibbs drummed his fingers. "So that was it?"

Anger flashed in Tony's eyes. Time for the big finish. "Oh, yes, Agent Gibbs. That was it. Never mind the fact it took half a year for me to regain my strength after I got out of the damn barn, one to not flinch at the slamming of a door, and two to be able to even look at needles. Never mind that I can't sleep due to the fact I have nightmares every fucking night of my life. Just forget the fact that I lost everything that day."

"I didn't mean-"

Tony's rage was palpable. "Of course you didn't mean it, Agent Gibbs. I listened to the tapes a few months after I got out- It was all Ziva's idea, wasn't it? She was still pissed about Rivikin and Somalia. However, it still doesn't change the fact that it happened and you allowed it."

Gibbs was floored. "Don't know what to say except for sorry," he pleaded.

Tony stood and headed for the door of the basement, clearly done with the conversation. He paused in the doorway and turned back to Gibbs, an ironic smile playing on his face. "I thought that I'd die before I heard that."

Tony walked brusquely out Gibbs' door and into the fall night feeling somewhat strung out, just having admitted to more of what happened to him than he ever had before in one sitting. He scrubbed a hand across his forehead, feeling the lines and actual physical heat that were a result of his intense anger. Quickly making a decision to do what would undoubtedly anger Mel and worry Mary, he stashed his helmet on the back of his bike and revved the engine extra loudly for good measure.

The cool night air rushing through his short brown hair was normally the medicine Tony needed. It did wonders to cool him off, and an adrenaline rush that didn't involve national security got his mind off things. However, he couldn't center himself tonight. Too many long-buried issues were brought up, and he opened up a whole other can of worms when he spat Kate's last words at Gibbs. Truthfully, he hadn't planned for that phrase to pass his lips. It was still a sore spot, regardless of how many years passed. However, something felt sickly satisfying about leaving the great, unflappable Leroy Jethro Gibbs gaping.

As he drove he spotted a black car on his tail out of the corner of his eye. He glanced over his shoulder and saw that it was riding dangerously close to his tail, and he sped to give himself some distance from the car. The car followed suit, getting even closer. A major "hinky" feeling rose in his gut, and he accelerated even further.

The glint of a silencer caught his eye from the window of the car. "Shit." He growled, and leaned sharply left to avoid the oncoming bullet. It grazed his arm, and he felt his warm blood seep into his t-shirt. Not even having time to wince, he swerved quickly into the other lane. He slammed on the brakes, and fired two shots as the car skidded past him. It careened off to the right and into a ditch.

He pulled up beside it and looked into the window. "Fuck." With that, he pulled back onto the road and slammed down on the throttle, heading back towards Gibb's house.

_Sadeeks – Arabic word for friends_


	14. Chapter 14

**I'm as heartbroken as you all are about the fact that Cote De Pablo will be leaving NCIS, but rest assured that I won't put a hold on this story because of that. I'm simply going off into my happy little world of denial.**

**Still don't own NCIS. Dammit.**

**Reviews are... Ah, crap. I don't have the heart to come up with some cutesy thing right now. I'm still writing, and they're helpful. THANKS.**

Gibbs was staring blankly into his mug of bourbon in his basement, sill trying to process all Tony told him. The ex-SFA's use of Kate's last words tore into him like a dull blade. Two agents he had lost- Kate, destroyed by the bullet of Ari Haswari; Tony, as he once knew him, destroyed by Gibb's own grievous mistake. He had been bitterly musing on this, lost in his own thoughts. The soft sound of his door opening and closing jerked him from his thoughts.

He drew his sidearm and crept up to the basement door, prepared to shoot the intruder. From behind his door, he heard the sound of a crash. He flung it open to see…

Tobias Fornell.

"Holy Fourth of July Weenie Roast, don't do that to me! You almost got yourself shot!" Fornell holstered his Sig, his face bright red and a small potted plant shattered at his feet. Gibbs was about to snark back when he realized that Fornell hadn't been pointing his gun at him.

A soft snort of laughter came from the shadows where Fornell was aiming. "Already did." Gibbs, though he would never admit it, jumped a little when he saw Tony emerge from the back corner of the room. His hand was pressed to his arm, and blood seeped through his fingers. Fornell and Gibbs stared at the wound. Tony lifted his hand, showing off a nasty gash in the side of his arm. "What, never seen a little blood before? It's a through-and-through."

"What the hell happened to you?" The two older men asked simultaneously.

Tony smirked. "Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum." He glanced down at his wound. "Got grazed. I need a needle, thread, and some bourbon." Fornell tossed Tony small plastic sewing kit from his pocket. Gibbs turned to look him inquisitively.

Fornell shrugged. "What? Never know if you're gonna lose a button." Gibbs nodded, trying not to laugh, and went down to grab a mug of bourbon. When he came back upstairs he found Fornell in the corner of the room, desperately trying not to throw up. When Gibbs caught sight of Tony stitching the ten-inch graze himself with well-practiced movements he thought he might loose the contents of his stomach as well.

He set the bourbon down by Tony and went to stand by Fornell. "He's a tough bastard." Fornell whispered, "Just burned the needle. Didn't even try to numb it."

"With what?" Tony grumbled from the table. "I may use coercion, but I don't keep morphine in my pocket." He picked up the bourbon and took a small swig, then poured the rest onto the wound. He grimaced "Gonna hurt like a motherfucker either way."

"Sounds like you, Gibbs." Fornell laughed.

Gibbs raised an eyebrow incredulously. "What?"

"The language."

Gibbs squinted at Fornell. "Why are you here?"

Fornell shrugged and gestured towards Tony. "He called me." He looked at Tony inquisitively. "Why didn't you go to the ER?"

"They don't take kindly to treating dead people." He cut the thread with his own switchblade nodded towards the television. "News, and gauze."

Fornell flipped on the television, and Gibbs went to the bathroom to grab out one of the many rolls he kept handy. He tossed it to Tony, who caught it one handed and began to wrap the stitched bicep, transfixed on the television. Gibbs turned to the television set to see what he was so set on.

A blonde, female anchor for ZNN News in a red sweater sat between scrolling banners that read "breaking news," exuberantly reporting a story. The words _Wanted murderer found murdered roadside _continually ticked across the screen, alternately showing a pictures of a black Cadillac Escalade crashed in a ditch and a man in his mid-forties. He seemed to be of Middle Eastern origin, and had dark hair and a heavy beard.

"Did you do that?" Fornell asked.

Tony nodded. "He pulled up behind me and started shooting. He was an assassin." He scrubbed his hand across his face. "Al Qaeda knows we're coming, and they've got higher-ups feeding them info about what we're doing. I'm supposedly dead- there's no way they could've known who I was unless it came from someone with the highest clearances. We need to get back to NCIS."

Fornell nodded, taking in the self-administered medical treatment. "Can you ride?"

"I ditched my bike two miles away and jogged here through the woods."

"After you were shot? Why?"

"They know what my motorcycle looks like, and the tag. Gibbs, your sniper rifle?" Gibbs quickly retrieved his beloved gun and handed it to Tony. "Fornell, your car." Tony got to his feet and was out the door in a flash. Fornell tossed him the keys, but Tony tossed them back. "Pop the trunk." Fornell obliged. Tony got in and stretched out as much as possible on his back, facing the rear window with the rifle on top of him.

The two older men climbed in the front seat. Fornell glanced in the rearview. "Planning on a drive by?"

Tony tried to relax in the trunk of the car. "Not today. Gonna catch a catnap. Wake me up if everything is about to go to shit."

Forty-five minutes later they pulled into the Navy Yard and stopped at the gate, where the security guards did a car check. The young guard who was searching the trunk leveled his gun at Tony when he saw him. Tony, who was still lying on his back, rifle at his side, flashed a glare and his badge at the official. Having no idea of what the protocol for prostrate hidden snipers in cars of other agents who had a badge was, the guard called over a higher-ranking official. "Ryder! Over here!"

The older, veteran official came around the car. He leveled his gun at Tony. "Get out of the car!" Tony rolled his eyes and held out his badge. The guard looked at it. "ECTF? What the hell is that?"

"He's with us!" Fornell called from the front seat.

"I can't let some armed, unknown agent in." The guard looked at Tony, bemused.

"The safety's on. Run my ID." Tony held out a card.

The guard regarded it skeptically. "Doesn't look like anything I've seen before."

Tony smiled patronizingly at him. "Of course you haven't. Run it."

The guard ran it through his handheld scanner and did a double take at what came up. " Unlimited access? Who the hell are you?" He peered at Tony and did a double take remembering a young, carefree, cocky agent that used to drive through with a smile and a joke. "Do I know you?"

Tony gave him a equally lecherous and fake smile. "Maybe in your dreams, cutie." He winked, reached out and pulled down the trunk door, leaving the bemused guard unsure of what to do but to wave them through.

"Go ahead." The guard watched the black SUV drive through into the Navy yard.

One of his younger subordinates took in his expression curiously. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

He thought about Tony's face, trying to place him. The one that came to mind was an impossibility, but… He shook himself. "I think I did."

When they reached the lot of NCIS, Tony pulled the emergency release switch of the trunk and let himself out. He pulled a list out of his pocket and handed it to Fornell through the window of the car with a "Take care of this."

Fornell looked down at the list, and then at Gibbs, puzzled. "A RedBull, Caramel Frappuccino, chai tea latte, two cups of coffee, and three doughnuts?"

"If I'm stuck with you, might as well put you to use." Tony patted Fornell's head through the window and strode towards NCIS. Once he was safely out of earshot, he pulled out his phone and dialed Eli David's number. "Eli? We need to talk."

Ten minutes later, Tony sat down next to Eli David on a bench outside NCIS. The morning sun was barely beginning to rise, but the shadows that remained suited the two men just fine.

"A lovely morning in your DC." Eli greeted him. "Though the fire of Tel Aviv is superior to anywhere else."

Tony chuckled. "Forget it. Not joining Mossad."

"A shame. Are we safe to speak?" Tony nodded an affirmation. "Good. What is it you want? This is obviously not a social visit."

Tony got straight to the point. "An Kideon operative tried to assassinate me this morning."

"And how do you know he was Kideon?"

"Because he came damn close to succeeding."

Eli smiled with pride. "You are one of the very few I have seen evade them."

Tony rolled his eyes. "Stroke your ego some other time, Eli. Who was he?"

"Do you have a photograph?" Tony pulled a picture on his phone from the ZNN site. Eli looked at it and let out a low growl of frustration. "Adam Eshel."

Tony nodded. "Who is he?"

"You are correct, he is Kideon. A very good officer, in fact. He was loyal to Israel and Mossad. Are you sure he tried to kill you?"

Tony held out his arm, displaying the slightly bloodstained bandage. "Yeah, I'm pretty positive."

"Then he went rogue. He does not have any assignment here."

"Another rogue assassin. Fantastic." Tony made a noise and tapped a few notes on his phone. "Thanks."

Eli nodded. "If you need him, Malachi is at your disposal." He looked at Tony inquisitively. "Have you talked to Ziva?"

"Did she talk to you after she got out of Somalia?"

Eli winced. "Point taken. However, she could prove useful."

"I've got my team."

"Yes. Mary is another individual I would not mind having for Mossad. However, you may need backup manpower. Malachi is good, but Ziva is the best."

Tony raised an eyebrow. "We're better. Shalom, Eli."

"Your confidence, as always, impenetrable. Shalom."

In the NCIS bullpen, Timothy McGee's cellphone buzzed in his pocket. He reached down and fumbled for it. A message from a restricted number read simply, _Morning, Probalicious. _McGee was momentarily confused before figuring out that the number must belong to Tony. He still couldn't believe the former SFA was back and the whole situation wasn't some whacked-out dream that was the byproduct of too little sleep and two many hours staring at computers. A shifting on his stomach made him jump a little, and a smile spread across his face when he realized it was Mary. He looked down at her and blinked once, twice. It was still early- the light of the sun was pale. She was still dead to the world. He slid his eyes shut and tightened his arm around her, who snuggled deeper into his side. After a few minutes, he felt a shadow cast across his face. Alarmed, his eyes shot open to see the massive figure of Mongo standing over him with an odd look in his eyes. "Uh." He couldn't identify the expression, but prayed it wasn't murderous intent. 'This isn't what it looks like…"

Stevie raised an eyebrow from across the bullpen. "What exactly does it look like, McGee?"

"Um… He glanced down at Mary who was still seemingly asleep on his chest. "I'm not really sure."

"Fucking adorable, that's what it is!" Dexter crowed. He was sitting cross-legged on Ziva's desk.

Stevie and Mongo rolled their eyes at Dexter. McGee looked down at Mary, who was resting comfortably on his chest. "Should I wake her?" He yawned groggily.

"No need." McGee jumped at Mary's low tone. She hopped up, looking fully awake. "What? Early riser."

McGee leveled his best glare at Mary. "Why didn't you let me know?" In honesty, McGee didn't mind in the least, but he felt the need to put up some irritated front for show.

Mary shrugged and pushed herself to her feet. "You're comfortable."

Though he was oddly flattered by her answer, he tried to maintain seriousness in his look. He failed miserably, and only managed a half-sarcastic _"Seriously?_"

She playfully reached down and slapped the side of his face. "I am not bound to please thee with my answers!"

Stevie scrubbed a hand over his eyes. "Oh, god, Mary. 04:00 and you're already quoting Shakespeare."

The light banter was interrupted by the arrival of Tobias Fornell into the bullpen, a carton of coffee in his hand. "Your unfriendly federal barista, reporting for duty," was his dry greeting as he unceremoniously plopped the coffees down on Ziva's desk.

Mary snagged the Caramel Frappuccino from the tray and took a long, grateful pull. "God bless caffeine."

Stevie scoffed at her. "That's more milk and sugar than caffeine. You should drink real coffee."

She rolled her eyes back at him and plunked down the coffee with a dramatic _thwunk. _ "I pray thee cease thy counsel, which falls into mine ears as profitless as water in a sieve." She blew him a kiss and turned for the restrooms.

McGee watched her go. Okay, it was official. A tall, southern girl with a sense of humor who quoted Shakespeare cheerfully in the mornings while slurping down Frappuccinos. He was officially screwed

Tony made a few calls to some contacts to get the information he needed, based on the new developments. He was now positive of exactly what was going on here, and it depressed him a bit. To cheer himself up, he shot a wake-up text to McGee. At 4 am, the possibility that the kid was awake was nearly nonexistent. His number would show up as restricted, but he called him Probalicious. That should be a massive clue as to whom it was from.

He headed into NCIS and walked around the metal detector, flashing his badge at the security guard. The guard, an elderly gentleman, regarded him somewhat suspiciously. Tony enjoyed the perplexity of the man and passed straight on towards the stairwell. _Nobody takes the stairs, _he smiled inwardly, _figure that one out, gramps. _

Tony walked into the stairwell, and the atmosphere around him dropped a few degrees. He straightened himself and stopped by the dark figure lurking under the first flight. An icily mordant smile spread across his face. "Well, if it isn't the ghost of Mossad past."


	15. Chapter 15

**Hello, friends! I have the next chapter here for your reading pleasure. I don't own NCIS.**

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"Tony." Ziva greeted him, emerging from the shadows under the stairwell. Her eyes travelled over his attire- combat boots, cargo pants, hoodie, rifle- up to the telltale bags that hung under his eyes. "Have you slept?"

He leaned against the wall and shrugged. "Not for about four years."

A pained look crossed her face. "You sound like Mossad."

He gave her the same cryptic smile and response that Mary did less than a day prior. "But so much worse."

She crossed her arms petulantly. "Why didn't you call?"

"Why would I?"

"We are your family!"

A feeling of exasperation fell over him. How many times would he have to go through this? "Were. Even so, what did that make me, the sacrificial lamb?"

"We never intended to loose you! We-"

"Left me-" He cut her off, "without backup, to a known violent terrorist cell?"

She gave a gesture of frustration. "You survived, did you not?"

"After nine months of hell." He paused. "Wasn't pregnant, was tortured, in case you need the distinction."

She ignored his morbid jibe. "_Nine?" _That was triple what she did in Somalia. "How did you survive it?"

"The same tactic that got me through Saleem. I was an ass."

Unable to meet his gaze any longer, she looked away. "How did Gibbs respond?"

He raised an eyebrow, picturing the Mini Cooper parked oh-so-inconspicuously across the street from Gibb's house a few hours earlier. "So that _was_ your Mini across the street. Thought so."

Her eyes widened. "How did you-"

"In case you haven't noticed, Agent David, I can figure you out pretty easily." He let the subtext hang for a minute.

She began to try to explain. "Tony, I-"

"Was still pissed about Rivkin, still pissed about what happened in Somalia. Hell, you were probably still pissed about Jeanne, maybe Ray?" He ticked off the incidents that had gone down between them. "No need to explain, I know. Hell, I can't blame you. I pissed you off, a _lot. _I was a worthless idiot."

She closed her eyes. The memory she had suppressed for years washed over her.

"_Worthless idiot," Ziva hissed at Tony as she and Gibbs walked away from him, towards the terrorists. Ziva felt somewhat guilty. Tony wouldn't appreciate what she was about to do. _

_One terrorist spoke to Ziva "Why are you speaking to me instead of your… companion?" He regarded her suspiciously_

_Ziva shot a glance at Gibbs, who began to try to backtrack from where Tony began to extricate himself from the deal while maintaining the cover of a bodyguard. Whatever Gibbs said probably wouldn't work- she would have to act quickly. Ziva cut him off, speaking Arabic to the terrorist. "My lover is a coward. He is feeling guilty and wants to back out of the deal." She cast a glance at Gibbs, who seemed perturbed at being unable to understand what was being said. She continued on, casting him a reassuring look. "I would like to give him as well as the information to you, for a price."_

_The terrorist momentarily looked surprised, but then delighted. "This is optimal. What will it cost us?"_

_Ziva held up a finger. "May we have a moment?" The two terrorists obliged and stepped back. She switched to Russian to speak to Gibbs. "We leave him with them, and come back tonight in a raid to get him out and take them down."  
_

_Gibbs schooled his expression, expertly masking his shock. "Ziva," he responded in the same tongue, "Leave him? Hell no!"_

"_If we do not, our only chance to get this bastard once and for all will be destroyed. I am sure he will be fine."_

"_I don't like it, Ziva"_

"_This is national security." Gibbs tried to continue to argue, but Ziva shook her head. "Any more, and we will blow our cover." She turned to the terrorist, switching back to Arabic. "Four million, and safe passage out of here."_

_The terrorist nodded. "A bargain." He tilted his head. "Are you Russian?"_

_She only responded with a mysterious smile and gesture towards Tony. "All yours." _

Ziva returned to the present, where Tony was watching the emotions parade across her face bitterly. She began to try to apologize. "Tony, I am-"

He held up a hand. "Save it, Agent David. Too little, way too fucking late." He turned and walked up the steps.

Ziva watched him go, and she fought back tears. Tony at one time had probably been in love with her, and her with him. Why did she blow it all to hell? Repeatedly?

Tony shook himself as he walked away from the encounter with the Israeli. All these years later it still stung, didn't it? He still found himself recalling "fond memories" with NCIS from before it had all gone down. The undercover assignment with Ziva was a frequent one. That had been fun, apart from when he got the shit beaten out of him. But then, just a few months later, Gibbs had his accident…

That was where it all began spiraling downward, wasn't it? Before then, he and Gibbs had been equals, of sorts. He behaved as Gibb's partner. When Kate came along he retained that status, and helped her transition from Secret Service Agent to NCIS Special Agent. She had become part of their unit. McGee showed up next, and was his Probeling. Then Kate died, and Ziva showed up. Still, he was respected, until Gibbs took his Mexican hiatus. When he returned, it was hello second-B and adios partnership. Gibbs started treating him as inferior, despite his gruff reassurances to the contrary. Why had he played along and begun acting the fool rather than taking that Rota position? He wasn't really sure now. He could have avoided the Jenny and Jeanne Benoit fiascoes entirely.

_Stop_, he chided himself, _not the time to slip into shoulda-coulda-woulda mode. _He needed to stop being distracted by his old team and get his job done. He pulled out his cellphone, and tapped in the number he had memorized years earlier. The person picked up on the second ring.

"_Tonyyyyyyyy!" _The jubilant voice of Abby Scutio backed by pounding music shouted through the phone, _"I missed you already!" _

Tony felt a little happier instantly. For a Goth, the woman was an excellent antidepressant "Do you have the results from the bullets?"

"_Do Louisianans love gumbo?" _

"Point taken. I'll meet you in the bullpen in five?"

"Will do." Abby snapped her phone shut. She grabbed the file of results and her CafPow! off her desk and raced into the elevator, wanting to meet Tony's team. She bounced on the balls of her feet as well as she could in her platform boots, mind whirling. She didn't know the specifics of what went down when Tony went missing, only that it had somehow been Gibb's and Ziva's fault. At least, that was what McGee told her. However, at the time, she had been too distraught and determined to find Tony to really investigate what had actually happened further. For whatever reason, he had ended up with these new people, and stayed without coming back. Were these people his new family? Had he replaced her?

Back in the Bullpen, Mary emerged from the restrooms dressed in a black, skin-tight long sleeve shirt and pants, black toe-shoes, with her brown hair down in waves around her face. She stopped in front of Stevie. "Work your magic." Much to the surprise of Gibbs, McGee, and Fornell who were stationed at Gibb's desk, Mary plopped down facing away from Stevie, who began to French-braid her hair. McGee regarded him incredulously.

"What?" Stevie grumbled indignantly. "I was undercover as a hairdresser once. Turns out I was good at it. Besides, Mary's incapable of anything pertaining to her own hair." He held up one of the wavy brown locks, a look of disgust on his face. "The shampoo she used to use was god-awful, too. _Suave."_

"He lives vicariously through Mary's hair 'cause he doesn't have any." Dexter cackled, plucking at one of the tight curls on Stevie's head.

"Metrosexual." All non-ECTF personnel jumped at the extremely deep one-word injection. Every head swiveled towards Mongo, who was holding a very large coffee and watching Stevie and Dexter amusedly. He gave no further gesture and continued downing his beverage.

As Stevie put the final plaits into Mary's hair, the ding of the elevator signaled the arrival of Abby Scutio. The Goth scurried into the middle of the squadroom and gave a quick wave to the people she knew in the bullpen. "Hi, Gibbs, Tim, Toby." Fornell shot her a half-hearted glare at the nickname. She ignored him, instead turning to the ECTF members. "Are you Tony's team?"

Dexter stepped forward and placed a kiss on Abby's knuckles. "That we are. You are…?" He was impaled in the side of the head by a pack of post-it notes. He shot a glare at Mongo. "Really_? Again?"_

Abby took a swig of her Caf-Pow. "Abby Scutio, forensic specialist extraordinaire."

Dexter rubbed the side of his head. "I'm Dexter." Stevie not so-gently shoved him aside and shook Abby's hand before being enveloped in a tight hug by Abby.

"I'm… Stevie," he choked out from the crushing grasp. He shot a victorious look at Dexter, who glared back.

Mongo stuck out his hand with a short "Mongo," as a greeting. Abby looked at his appearance curiously before a smile spread across her face.

"Oh, that is… Awesome." She reached up and hugged him quickly before leaning back. "Are you a closet philosopher?"

Mongo smiled a tiny smile. He leaned down to Abby's ear. "Mongo simply a pawn… In the game of life."

Abby gave him a massive high-five while everyone else stared.

"I think that's the fastest Mongo's ever spoken to anyone," Dexter whispered to McGee, who was standing next to him. "It took me three months."

Mary went straight for the hug. "I'm Bloody Mary."

Abby squealed. "Oh my god… You're a girl… And you're taller than I am… and you have a name with the word blood in it." She tightened the hug before letting go and taking in Mary's all-black outfit. "Like the clothes. Do you like guns?"

Mary grinned. "Love them."

Abby shook her hand. "This may be the beginning of a beautiful friendship."

Tony, who just arrived into the bullpen, watched the exchange between the two. They actually were strikingly similar people. It wasn't only the interests and physicality of the two very tall women, but something in their demeanors. Both were wonderfully quirky. Also… There was sharpness. Abby obviously was a science genius. Mary was subtler, once having remarked that she would have been a lawyer had her original plans worked out, and her skills in persuasion was evident in the way that she spoke. Intellect aside, there was a need to love in both. Abby, after getting past her initial dislike of him had latched onto Tony with the fervent adoration of a best friend and sister. Mary… She was a wounded, but resilient soul. That much was clear when he first met her. She was as slick as oil in their first encounter, demonstrating skills in hiding in plain sight that rivaled Tony's own. He was unable to get past the surface. However, after he rescued her from the awful assignment at the CIA she was tasked with, she opened up to him and fostered a ferocious love that mimicked that of a…. daughter? He was drawn back to the night after Mary joined his team at ECTF.

_Tony tried to relax the king-sized bed in his room at ECTF, but failed, far too pensive of the dreams to come. He really didn't want to deal with the feel of bindings or phantom aching of healed broken bones that almost always followed all his nightmares. He really didn't want to remember the horrific scenes of his captivity. _

_**Hah**__, he scoffed at himself, __**Tony DiNozzo, fearless leader of the top ECTF team too scared to sleep. What would the team think if they knew?**__ Mongo, Stevie, and Dexter always observed the dark bags that hung under his eyes with empathy, but never asked questions. How would his new agent react?_

_He stepped out into the hallway, hoping to clear his head, where his acute senses picked up a quiet snuffling noise. Instincts and exact hearing honed by years of experience told him it was emanating from the door closest to him. He paused- this was his new agent- Mary's- room. Did he make a mistake in hiring her earlier that afternoon? Had the steely black ops agent he saw at the CIA headquarters been a mirage? Could she handle this?_

_Shoving down his worries, he knocked lightly on the door a few times. "Uh…" Mary's low southern tone sounded roughly through the door. She cleared her throat, and somehow steadied her voice. "Come in."_

_Numerous pillows propped the young woman up, and a book rested on her lap. She was swathed in blankets, save her feet, which stuck out under the covers. Tony couldn't help but marvel at how young she was. Truthfully, her attitude, height and world experience had masked it to him earlier. Her gray eyes sought his, and he was surprised to see the sharp, obtuse orbs he saw earlier replaced by sad, slightly watery red-rimmed blue-grey. "Sorry," she grabbed a tissue, "Allergies. Am I keeping you up?"_

_Tony shook his head, noting the valiant attempt at disguising perceived weakness. "I was awake anyways."_

"_Oh." She blanched, "Did you need something?"_

"_I'm curious as to why you were crying just a minute ago." _

_She turned an impossible shade of red. "You saw that?"_

"'_The last of it. Why?"_

_She regarded him, a strange calculating fear in her eyes. She seemed to reach a decision, and slid over on the bed. "Do you like to read?"_

_He looked at her, intrigued. "I don't keep any books here."_

"_No books at all? That might explain the lack of conversation. My mom always told me that not reading lead to muteness due to lack of topics to discuss and sheer stupidity." She blushed. "Not that you're stupid- Sorry, she also said I didn't have a filter."_

_He shook his head, reminded of how he used to ramble in a similar way. "I prefer honesty to a filter."_

_She considered for a moment and searched his face for any judgment, but only located concern. "Might as well get the fact that I'm crazy out there up front. Well, anyways, it's this line from Shakespeare…__ The Life of King Henry the Eighth__. Katharine, the queen, says 'Alas! I am a woman friendless, hopeless!" She took a deep breath. "Every time I read that line, I can't help but notice how true it is for me. I'm twenty, for god's sakes! I should be in college, have tons of friends." _

_He looked at her, waiting for her to continue when she jumped up and flung her arms around him in a hug. "Maybe that won't have to be true for me any more." He froze, before gently returning the hug. It was the first physical affection he had allowed in the two years since getting out of the terrorist camp._

The second "Tonyyyyy" he heard that day snapped him back into the present. Abby barreled towards him and wrapped him in a hug. "I missed you." He returned the hug. "You too, Abs." She released him and pecked his cheek. "I have your results." The persons in the squadroom as well as the new arrivals of Kort and Eli drew in near to hear what was going on.

Abby flipped open her file. "The bullets are in radioactive-safe storage right now. I figured you didn't all want to have to wear HAZMAT suits, and we don't have radioactive-safe containers. There actually aren't radioactive-safe containers, just ones that-" Catching her ramble, she stopped off mid-sentence and shook herself. "National security. Right. Focus, Abby." She pulled out three pictures, each of a slug and divided them, two on one side of the folder and one on the other. "They're shot from two different guns. "The first is from a SIG," she placed a picture of the weapon next to the first picture. "Guess what the second is from?"

"A Jericho?" Tony answered.

Mouths dropped open- A Jericho was the choice weapon of Mossad. Abby looked at him, a small smile playing on her lips and she laid a picture of a Jericho next to the second two photos. "Cor-rect. The radioactive element is Uranium. Here's the cool thing- it's _inside_ the bullet, and is dispersed when the bullet impacts. So even if the shot's non-fatal or even a graze, the victim and anyone standing within a hundred feet immediately get a massive dose of radiation. They're dead in minutes." She paused for effect- "So, basically, it's a mini nuclear bomb in bullet-form."

Fornell touched the picture of the SIG and suddenly felt conscious of his own identical weapon. "Any idea where it was produced?" Abby shook her head.

Tony cleared his throat. "Afghanistan. By scientists working for Al Qaeda."

Abby looked at him, baffled. "How on earth would terrorist-scientists in Afghanistan get their hands on Uranium?"

Tony scrubbed a hand across his face. "They mine it."

"They don't have the technological resources," Fornell interjected, "How would they?'

Mary's mouth dropped open. "You have got to be kidding me."

Tony nodded grimly. "Yup. High-ranking US officials have leaked information on how to extract and handle radioactive elements to Al Qaeda." He stood and cracked his neck slowly once to either side. His eyes grew dark and calculating. "And we know exactly where they're meeting." He jumped up. "Let's go to war."


	16. Chapter 16

**Hello, all. Sorry for the wait; I've had a hell of a month- the loss of 2 family members. Being caught up in all of that, I didn't have much time to write. Alas, the wait is over. One action packed chapter of TDHB, coming up! I hope you enjoy it, and would love to hear your thoughts. Whether it's good or bad, corrections, or where you think the plot is going. I'm interested to hear theories, and I have a feeling there will be a lot after this chapter.**

**I don't own NCIS. Love you all!**

**Un-beta-ed, as always.**

With those ominous words, the bullpen erupted into action. The ECTF members grabbed their bags and geared up with fast, practiced, and almost lethal-looking movements, each pulling on a black jacket with strange reflective qualities and numerous pockets. One could only imagine what was inside. Tony shrugged on a shoulder holster with a Jericho, while Mary wore her holster on her waist with the same weapon. They both hung a SR-25 over their shoulders. Stevie, Dexter, and Mongo wore a M249 on their side and carried a M9 Berretta. Mary and Tony strapped on several knives, though McGee could only figure out where they hid three of them.

He jumped when he felt a tug on his arm. "Agent McGee?" Recognizing the smooth tone, he whirled to see Director Meloy watching him with some amusement. "The services Agent Bond briefed you about are needed in the Major Threat Assessment Center. With me." She turned on her heel and headed quickly up the stairs. McGee kept sneaking glances over his shoulder at Tony's team, causing him to almost run into Meloy when she stopped at the top of the stairs and turned to watch Tony lead the group into the waiting elevator at almost inhuman speed. As the doors closed, he threw McGee and Meloy a quick salute.

Meloy returned the gesture, and once again turned sharply for MTAC. To McGee's surprise, Gibbs, Ziva, Vance, Fornell, Kort, Eli, and Malachi were already seated in the elevated rows of chairs in the back silently waiting for Meloy and he. All donned headsets. Meloy took her place in front of the dark screen and slid on a headset. McGee sat down at the computers, instantly feeling somewhat at ease. Everything might be going crazy, but he knew computers. They were his friends. He began typing, initiating the comms unit and satellite program. "Talk to papa…" A few minutes later a small ping sounded, and he cleared his throat. "And… We're online."

The sound came on, silent except for the sound of beating helicopter wings. The screen flickered on to display the inside of the chopper, Tony was visible, with Dexter on his right and Stevie on his left. Mongo's massive paw resting on his knee was visible beside the cameraman.

"Who's carrying the camera?" Vance asked

"Agent Bloody is wearing an earring that has a camera embedded on the stud," was Meloy's cool reply, She didn't divert her eyes from the screen.

"So cool," McGee whispered.

Meloy pulled on a headset and adjusted the microphone. "ECTF Alpha team. Do you copy?"

"_Alpha copies_," Tony's low tone rose in MTAC. "_Go for TL Bond_."

"_Go for T2 Bloody."_

"_Go for Mongo."_

"_Go for Dexter."_

"_Go for Stevie_."

"Unit on ready. SEAL Team on ready and approaching target. Sniper Team?" Meloy responded.

"_Go for Bloody."_

"_Go for Bond."_

"Infiltration?"

"_Go for Team Alpha."_

"_SEAL Team ready."_

"Reinforcements?"

"_Bond and Bloody on ground with SEALS in initial approach. Mongo, Dexter and Stevie are backup."_

All was quiet for a minute or two. Dexter's voice crackled "_Over target in 30_."

"_McGeek? What we got?"_ Tony said after a short pause in the chatter.

McGee punched a few commands into the computer system. A few screens flashed and the satellite image zoomed in to show the building the helicopter was approaching. "Three stories, it looks like. Patrols on bottom two floors and outside. Upstairs are seated. Shield of forestry around it, a wall a few hundred feet out. "

In the cabin of the helicopter, Mary cocked her SR-25 and grinned a sideways smirk at Tony. "Piece of cake. Time for us to sing them the song of our people."

Tony tossed his rifle over his back, shoved the chopper door open, and gave her a rock on sign in return. "Yippee Ki Yay, motherfuckers!" With that, he threw a rope out and slid down, dropping a few feet to the ground at the end. Mary followed and the helicopter tilted away from them, taking cover in surrounding trees.

In the early morning, the grounds surrounding the camp were bathed in shadow, providing more than adequate cover for Tony and Mary. They conveniently landed right behind a patch of bushes, which they promptly ducked into covering their entire beings save the noses of their rifles. "In position," Tony whispered. "Hold SEAL team. Let's see if we can take some of the most jacked bastards down before we bring in the Calvary. Bloody, you set?"

"Set. Have guards in my line of sight."

"_Proceed. Quietly."_

All in the bullpen flinched a little at the first muffled shot, followed by four more. On the satellite feed they watched five bodies drop to the ground in front of the compound. Gibbs cleared his throat. "Helluva markswoman."

" Appreciate that, coming from a marine sniper," was Mary's whispered reply.

Tony ignored the exchange. "SEAL team, on my count. Don't go until trigger word 'Aquarium.' Copy?"

"_Fuck you, buddy."_ A deep male voice groused over the intercom, backed by some rumblings of his squadron.

"Steve-O! Mary whispered happily, "Nice of you to join the party, though things haven't been too lively." A muffled shout in Arabic was heard, followed by a flurry of movement in the upper levels of the building.

"This fiesta's about to get started now," Tony said, "Mary, my left on three. One… Two… Three!" Tony and Mary burst out of the bush and took off towards the house at a dead sprint, rifles leveled at the doors. They pressed up against either side. "Activity on upper levels. Lower aren't alerted yet. Targets are probably top floor." Tony whispered. He paused. "Aquarium! Be free, willies!" He jumped in front of the door and leveled it with a kick. He and Mary sprinted inside and began rapid-firing their guns. The SEALS showed up behind them, and they filled the room. "Alright, boys, let's make some noise."

Steven, who was serving as point for the SEAL team, bit off the head of a smoke grenade and threw it up the stairs. A loud bang and bright flash ensued, and more yelling in different languages followed. Tony flicked his wrist, gesturing towards the stairs. The SEALS moved up the stairs and began firing. "Clear!" Steven yelled. Mary and Tony ran up the stairs.

"Where's the backup?" Tony asked.

"Here!" Dexter called, running in the door of the room. Stevie and Mongo followed.

"Nice of you to join us," Tony remarked dryly. "SEALs, hang back. We're going hand to hand. Got a specific few we've got to let live."

Mary hung her rifle over her back and pulled out her pistol. "Are they armed, McGee?"

In MTAC, McGee tapped on the keyboard to zoom in on the satellite footage. "Doesn't look like it. Most are pressed up against wall. No visible weapons."

"_So no machine guns."_ Tony's voice came over the loudspeaker._ "Let's move."_

Fornell scrubbed a hand across his forehead. "Get your barf bags ready." A few in MTAC though that he might be right when the camera on Mary's earring gave a clear view of Tony busting into the room and killing the man closest to the door by snapping his neck before he even had time to react.

"I taught him that," Gibbs smiled.

Mary landed a devastating blow to the back of one guard's head and threw his gun down the stairs behind her while Mongo, Dexter, and Stevie bust in and knocked down a few more. Suddenly, the sound of three gunshots erupted, followed by an "Oof!" from Tony and a curse from Mary. Tony threw a knife into the throat of the weapon-barer. After he dropped, the room was quiet. All remaining occupants pressed themselves to the wall with their hands up, indicating surrender. All was silent.

"_Bond?"_ Meloy called, _"Bloody, you two alright?"_

Tony rolled his shoulder a couple of times, wincing. "In the vest. Fuck. That's gonna leave a bruise. Room clear."

"_Bloody? Didn't hear anything from you?"_

"Ahhh…" Mary groaned. "Vest, too. I think I'm okay."

"Wait-" Dexter looked at both of them and around the room nervously. "Were those radioactive?" All was silent for a moment until an answer came from an unexpected source.

"_If they were, wouldn't everyone in the room before you got there have been poisoned by the radiation by now?_ McGee said over the headset, nerves making his voice shake.

Tony smiled. "Good thinking, McGee. Let's clean this shit-party up."

With that, all attention was turned to the occupants of the room. Two US Representatives stood cowering behind a Mossad agent and the terrorist leader. "We've got your boys." Tony said. He zip-tied the hands of the Mossad agent behind his back, Mongo, Stevie, and Dexter followed suit with the other men.

"Uh… Tony?" All attention focused on Mary, who uttered the team leader's name with an uncharacteristic softness. "Guess they didn't miss the third shot." She lifted her hand from where it was resting over her abdomen, and it was covered in blood. With that, she swayed and collapsed in a heap on the floor.

"Fuck! Get a medevac!" Tony yelled into the comms unit as he crossed the room. Mary's skin was rapidly growing paler, and her breathing was heavy. A wet splotch was spreading on her left abdomen and pooling around her. Tony felt along her side until he located the wound and pressed his hand into it to staunch the blood flow.

"Ah…." She squeezed her eyes shut in pain at the extra pressure on the already agonizing injury.

Tony leaned down and dropped a quick kiss on her forehead. "Sorry. Hang in there."

"Tony?"

"Mar?"

"When I'm admitted…" She breaths were labored in between the words, "Don't let me get any…. nuns for nurses. Once… They hear… I'm Catholic… They'll want to read… me scripture."

Tony smiled, partially in relief that she was alert enough to be giving directions about her hospital caregivers. "We could get you male nurses."

"Nah… McGee will do…" She coughed, and her eyes fluttered a little. "But I… don't want communion." Tony's stomach clenched as her eyes seemed to become impossibly heavy.

He smoothed her hair back with one hand, trying to keep her awake. "No napping."

"…Always sucked at naptime…. Wanted… to run around…" Her eyes closed, but she snapped them back open. "Seriously… should've reconsidered."

"C'mon, Mar!" Tony applied a little more pressure to her wound. "Stay with me!"

She forced them open one more time. "So… cliché." She rolled her eyes, and then forced her grey ones to lock on his. "Just in case… Love ya, Tony. Don't misplace guilt." Her eyes rolled back in her head, and she passed out.

"Shit!" Tony exclaimed. The sound of a helicopter's wings beating filled the air, and he gestured to Mongo. "Help me out." Mongo scooped Mary up cradle-style while Tony kept pressure on the wound. Together, they made their way out of the shot-up building and towards the paramedics who ran forward with a gurney. Mongo gently placed her on it. The paramedics took over the care of Mary's wound and began attaching various monitors. Tony ran alongside them to the helicopter, filling them in. " GSW in the side. She's been out for a minute." They nodded and loaded the gurney into the helicopter. Tony followed them in and slammed the door, leaving no room for anyone to tell him he couldn't come.

McGee stood in the relatively quiet trauma waiting room, pacing like a madman. Suddenly, the doors flung open and a gurney was rolled in. Several medical personnel ran alongside it, holding an IV bag as well as units of blood. A mobile heart monitor was rolled along side, giving off weak _beeps. _Tony walked behind the stretcher, expression grim. McGee fell into step next to Tony as they pushed Mary into the surgery ward. Through the bustling heads of medical personnel, he caught glimpses of her pale, slack face. He didn't get much of a chance to see any of the damage done before a doctor hustled up next to them, pulling on gloves. "What we got?" His unwavering, authoritative tone brought little reassurance.

A female EMT pressing cotton to the bleeding wound answered. "GSW. Left side abdomen, through and through. No arteries hit, status of organs unknown."

The doctor nodded. "Prep for emergency surgery. Medical proxy or next of kin?"

Tony cleared his throat. "Right here. Do what it takes."

They stopped outside the surgery room and stood helplessly on the other side of the glass while the medical personnel ran around, setting up various monitors.

A male nurse ran up to them. "Sir, only patients and medical personnel are allowed in Surgery." Tony turned and fixed the nurse with a long, hard stare. The poor young RN's Adam's apple bobbed up and down rapidly, but he pressed on. "I'm sorry, sir-"

"I'd be happy to make a call to the president. See if he can convince you to make an exception." Tony's tone was quiet, but menacing.

This caught the nurse off guard. A look of puzzlement crossed his face, but he persisted. "Sir, I don't know-"

He was cut off when Tony grabbed his shirt, lifting him a few inches off of the ground. "If you don't get your head out of your ass in exactly three seconds, I will create another patient. Could that work?"

The nurse looked around frantically for help but found none. The poor man looked about ready to cry when Tony's cellphone buzzed. He gave the man one last look before dropping him in a heap on the floor and tapping the "accept" button on the screen with far more force than necessary and pressing it to his ear. "Bond."

"_Tony," _Meloy's voice came over the cellphone, "_How is Mary?"_

He took a glance through the glass that separated him from the surgery unit, but couldn't catch a glimpse of her between all the masked figures. "She lost a lot of blood." He shot a glance at McGee, who was transfixed on the glass, his lips moving silently in prayer.

"_As much as I would like to let you stay there and be there myself, I need you here."_

"What!?" Tony all but shouted, "Why?"

"_One of the politicians got scared and tried to make a plea bargain with us, offering information to avoid Gitmo. A few of the terrorists are not accounted for, and the number of nuclear bullets don't match up with the descriptions. There are already gunmen on the loose with the bullets." _Meloy drew a deep breath. _"They're targeting the National Mall.'_


	17. Chapter 17

_Alas, after yet another long wait, another chapter to TDHB. A note- I am mmow, but have changed the name of my account to RomanticizedRebel._

_I do not own NCIS. That honor accredited to Don Bellesario and CBS._

Tony stared at the phone for a moment. Finally, he covered the phone with his hand and turned to McGee, his expression and resolve grim but firm. "McGee, stay here with Mary. I want your ass planted."

McGee nodded. "Of course."

"When she wakes up, let her know I love her back."

McGee nodded fervently in response to this, and Tony took a good look at him. "You're a good guy, Tim. You'll be good for her." He turned and headed out the door, away from the surgery ward.

McGee watched him, slightly shell shocked at his words. _Tony WANTS me to go after Mary? _A sense of elation filled him, but was quickly dampened by another thought. _That'll only work out if she pulls through. _Though he wasn't a terribly religious man, he offered up yet another prayer to let Mary live.

The way Tony said about letting Mary know that he "loved her back" replayed in McGee's head. Something about it didn't sit right with him, and he offered up another prayer for the man that was once his best friend and partner.

Meanwhile, Tony was making a beeline for the hospital doors. As he stepped outside of the sterile white building he uncovered the phone and pulled it back to his ear. "What the hell, Mel?"

"_They're using the radioactive bullets. They're targeting high traffic areas and shooting."_

"And we haven't evacuated and flooded the area with police, why?"

An exaggerated huff was heard over the phone line. _"You know damn well why. They're armed with radioactive bullets. Barge in with the Calvary, spook them; they start shooting and kill thousands. Evacuate, they realize what's happening, same result. We have to take them down quietly."_

"But the National Mall? How is that possible with the security there?"

"_These aren't your run-of the mill yuppie terrorist-snipers. These are traitor Mossad. That's why Eli was involved in the first place."_

A few muscles clenched in Tony's abdomen worriedly. "Shit, Mel, I'm a man down. Mary's our sniper."

"_You'll have to operate without."_

"I'm doing it alone. It'll be infinitely more dangerous without Mary, and I'm not about to put the others on the line. I can get the job done."

_"But at what cost to yourself?"_

"That doesn't matter. Get me back to the NCIS building so I can load up, and I'll take it from there."

Meloy breathed a heavy sigh over the phone. _"There's a chopper three minutes out. Hang tight."_

Ten minutes later, Tony sprinted into the Bullpen, ignoring the baffled looks of a few former colleagues who were just arriving for the day. Meloy leaned on the edge of Tony's old desk, waiting for him. Her fingers drummed a frantic rhythm on the hardtop.

He raised an eyebrow. "Where are the others?"

"I sent them to be with Mary. They'd try to come with you."

Tony nodded, grabbing clips for his sniper rifle and adjusting it to single shot. "That makes this easier. I need a fast ride, something inconspicuous. We're gonna have to take them down without letting them know we're coming."

"I've got the best thing next to light speed in the garage."

Tony turned, but Meloy grabbed his arm. "Tony…" She pulled him into a quick hug. "It's been a pleasure."

He squeezed her back. "You too, Mel. You too. Let the team know I love them, and I'm sorry."

She pressed a folded map into his palm. He nodded and sprinted for the stairwell, taking the stairs two at a time. Unfolding the map she had given him as he ran, he glanced at the position of the various snipers, making notes in his mind about their locations. He could get in position to take down three, but the two were going to be close combat. He sighed. _Hand to hand against two Mossad with radioactive bullets, after I whack their buddies. They'll definitely know I'm there. _The last threads of hope he had been harboring disintegrated._ There's virtually no conceivable way I can make it through this._

_So this is what it comes down to, a full circle. Alone for most of the beginning of my life, alone at what's in all likelihood the end. I need a Hail Mary or else I'm a goner as well as a shitload of other people. People always called Gibbs a loner, but I'm the true lone wolf. _He shook himself. _No time to muse on the tragic ballad of Anthony D. DiNozzo Junior. I've still got a job to do._

He sprinted down the last steps and into the garage. He stopped dead in his tracks and a grin spread across his face. "I'll be damned."

Gibbs sat in the driver's seat of the black Dodge Charger that was idling just in front of the stairwell. "You apparently needed a light speed ride."

Tony swung down into the passenger's seat, expertly maneuvering his rifle in with him. "No, no, no. Light speed is too slow. We're going to have to go right to ludicrous speed." He slammed the door and was thrown back against the seat as Gibbs pressed the pedal into the ground. "So you're said ludacris ride."

"And temporary partner." Gibbs jerked his head towards the back seat, and Tony saw a sniper rifle lying there. "I volunteered to Meloy when the politician spilled his guts."

Tony began loading his rifle and pulled out the map of the National Mall. "We'll take down three together."

Gibbs took a glance. "There are five."

"Last two are mine." Tony didn't elaborate further. Instead, he grabbed Gibb's rifle from the backseat and ignored Gibb's glare when he began cleaning and loading it. "Considering that there are terrorists with bio-weapons in the form of bullets preparing to take out a few of the protectors of the free world, we're kind of on a time crunch here. You won't have long enough to do it yourself." He smiled at Gibbs. "You ever done a drive by?"

Gibbs glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, perturbed. "What?" His interrogative was too late. Tony cracked the window of the car with the nose of his rifle and fired off a silenced shot. Gibbs saw a figure fall, and several shrieks sounded. "Why the hell'd you do that?"

"Sorry about the window. Mel'll reimburse you."

"Not the goddamned window! How'd you know that was the right person?"

"I've never been wrong before." Tony grabbed the steering wheel and jerked it to the right, starting Gibbs who slammed onto the brakes. Before the car had stopped in the grass, Tony shoved the door open and jumped out of the car. "Let's move." He put the rifle in a large black backpack that had been sitting at his feet, effectively concealing it. He did the same with Gibbs' in an identical backpack from the backseat, and handed the concealed weapon to Gibbs.

Gibbs took it, shaking his head. "Crazy bastard."

Tony caught Gibbs by surprise when he took off for the Lincoln memorial at a sprint. He darted up the marble stairs, taking them three at a time. Gibbs was huffing as they dashed over the top, though Tony seemed unfazed and didn't slow down at all as he made a sharp left, running through the passage of columns. They sprinted around the back of the monument and up several more flights of metal stairs that Gibbs guessed were for access by maintenance and news crews

At the top of the steps Tony dropped his pack and pulled out his rifle. "Ready to flex the sniper muscle?" he asked Gibbs as he adjusted the scope and shouldered it. Though Gibbs was still trying to catch his breath he followed suit with his own weapon, and they moved quietly around the roof, coming to a stop at the front of the monument facing out over the reflecting pool. They both took a look at the map Meloy had given them earlier. Tony pointed to two highlighted marks on the map. "I'll take the one on the left. On my count." They scanned the areas. "Found mine," Tony said, taking aim, "Yours is the one in the blue hoodie at the Veteran's memorial."

Gibbs took a quick sideways glance at Tony wondering how in God's name he found both so fast, but figured it was just another skill of the nowadays enigmatic Agent. "Set." He called once he had his in his sights. His finger rested on the trigger.

"Steady…" Tony said, "One. Two. Three!" The pops of their rifles sounded at the same time and both figures fell. They slung their rifles in their backpacks. Tony grabbed Gibb's backpack off of his shoulders, alleviating the weight, and took of running towards the stairwell without a word. Gibbs followed at a full out sprint. Even with the weight of both packs, Tony was quick. Gibbs had forgotten how fast the former college football receiver was and had to run as fast as possible to try to keep up.

They made it back to the car in record time. Tony had tossed the packs in the back seats and was in the passenger's side with the ignition turned by the time Gibbs made it in the driver's seat. "Capital Building. Drive like the wind."

Gibbs floored the car into reverse and they took off at a highly illegal speed towards the home of the US Government.

A few minutes later they skidded to a stop in front of the very large white building. Tony jumped out of the car, and his facial expression turned to one of rage. He whirled to face Gibbs. Gibbs momentarily worried that he had done something, but Tony began speaking in a low, urgent tone.

"'They're trying to use the public as a shield from us. I can get a clear shot at one, but the other I'm going to have to go hand to hand." Gibbs searched for the two men. His stomach dropped once he spotted them, seeing that Tony was exactly right. He wasn't sure, however, that Tony could even get a clear shot at the first.

Tony discreetly pulled his Jericho out of the side of his backpack and holstered it. He turned to Gibbs, dropping his voice to a whisper. "Wait here. If anyone comes running this way, don't hesitate to shoot them."

Gibbs raised an eyebrow. "And if it's you?" He joked worriedly in the same low tone, though he felt his gut twist.

Tony smirked. "Never one to run from much."He started to walk away from Gibbs in the direction of the two men, but Gibbs touched his arm to stop him.

"It was an honor."

Tony shocked him with his response. "Same." The ECTF agent walked towards his two foes, essentially towards his death, maintaining the appearance of a casual passerby. At the last second when he had a small clear path he pulled out his Jericho, and fired a double tap into one of the unsuspecting traitor Mossad's forehead. The other agent came at Tony low and hard, football-style tackling the ECTF agent to the ground. The two men bounced down the steps as they grappled. Nearby civilians scattered, screaming and getting as far away as possible.

The burly Mossad agent had a few good few inches and hundred pounds on Tony, and was beginning to gain the upper hand by sheer physical strength. He rolled Tony onto his back and landed a hard punch to the ECTF agent's nose. Tony cursed as blood gushed down his face and his vision blurred. The Mossad agent took a few more crushing swings before pulling out his knife on his belt. Tony, seeing the opportunity, struck out with his left hand, redirecting the knife into the man's stomach and eliciting a scream from the Mossad. While the man was distracted, Tony pulled the gun loaded with radioactive bullets out and threw it away down the steps towards where Gibbs was standing.

Getting rid of the weapon was at great cost to Tony, and the agent used the opportunity to repin him. Even as he kept Tony trapped while he pulled the knife out of his stomach with one hand and positioned it over the ECTF agent's throat, Tony felt peace. Even if he died in the next instant, the Mossad the agent would bleed out soon after him. The gun with radioactive bullets was now too far for the mortally wounded man to get it back and take any lives.

Words to an old poem his mother taught him when he was young resounded in Tony's mind.

_Out of the night that covers me,  
Black as the pit from pole to pole,  
I thank whatever gods may be  
For my unconquerable soul._

_In the fell clutch of circumstance_  
_I have not winced nor cried aloud._  
_Under the bludgeoning of chance_  
_My head is bloody, but unbowed._

_Beyond this place of wrath and tears_  
_Looms but the Horror of the shade,_  
_And yet the menace of the years_  
_Finds and shall find me unafraid._

_It matters not how strait the gate,_  
_How charged with punishments the scroll,_  
_I am the master of my fate:_  
_I am the captain of my soul._

If there was one thing Anthony D. DiNozzo, Jr. was going was going to be to the bitter end, it was strong. Tony smiled and looked into the eyes of the man above him as the Mossad raised the knife to plunge it into his throat, waiting for the inevitable arrival of what he had managed to narrowly avoid so many times before.

_Cliffy. Uh oh. The poem is __**Invictus**__ by William Ernest Henly._

_The end is near, but I'm still working on writing this… Reviews positive, negative, or speculative are lovely. I wouldn't mind hearing how you want the resolution of McGee and Mary to turn out._


	18. Chapter 18

**Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS. That's Donald P. Bellesario and CBS's job.**

McGee was still standing in front of the surgery observation window when Mongo, Dexter, and Stevie arrived by his side. Transfixed on the bluish-green clad figures that moved hurriedly around the operating table and beautiful patient, he didn't register their presence. Finally, Dexter laid a hand on his shoulder. McGee jumped a little, snapping out of his stupor.

"How is she?" Dexter questioned him anxiously.

McGee's weary green eyes bore down on the young redhead. "I have no idea. Nobody's told me anything." His frustration bled through to his tone, making it a little higher than he would have preferred. He just felt so helpless. He was a field agent- his job was to be in the middle of the action, not to watch powerlessly from the sidelines. From the restless shifting he observed in the three ECTF agents present, it was clear they felt the same way. Feeling a strange sort of solidarity in their common angst, the four agents turned back to watch the doctors work. An indefinite amount of time passed before Dexter broke the silence with another question.

"Where's Bond?"

It took McGee a moment to remember Tony's codename. "He left a little while ago."

The three other men exchanged a look. "That's not normal." Stevie said. The other two nodded their agreement. "He wouldn't just leave while Mary's in danger."

They paused for a few minutes, trepidation manifesting itself in yet another form. Finally, Dexter pulled out his cellphone. "We should call him, just in case." He hit his speed dial for Tony and an electronic voice came over the phone. "_We're sorry, __the person you're trying to call is-" _Dexter mashed the end call button frustratedly. "Voicemail. Nothing."

The four men exchanged glances, having no idea whatsoever what to do.

Luckily for them, Director Meloy walked into the surgical ward just then. Her facial expression, to the untrained eye, was unconcerned and her body language relaxed, but those who knew her could read the very subtle signs of distress.

"Mel, where's Tony?" Dexter said.

Meloy stiffened. "Why don't you all step out into the waiting room?" The three ECTF agents obeyed in an almost Pavlovian manner, but McGee hesitated. The older woman laid a gentle hand on his arm. "There is nothing you can do for her here."

McGee reluctantly conceded and followed her. The only reason he actually complied was hope to find out about Tony. He had had a bad feeling about the whole situation ever since the older man left the hospital.

Outside, the surgery ward, Abby, Ziva, Fornell, Kort, Eli, Malachi, and Steven the Navy SEAL all sat scattered throughout the trauma waiting room. He scanned the area. Sure enough Tony and Gibbs were missing.

Meloy cleared her throat. "I'm sure several of you are wondering about Agents Bond and Gibbs." She glanced at the ceiling, taking a moment. "I am unsure of their status. There was an additional threat, and they teamed together to neutralize it." The three ECTF members present jumped up, staring daggers at Meloy. She cleared her throat, trying to compose herself, but her voice still cracked on the last word. "They have not made contact back."

_Meanwhile…_

Tony smiled and looked into the eyes of the massive Mossad agent who held the knife above his throat. Calmly, he waited for the inevitable arrival of what he had managed to narrowly avoid so many times before. He saw the flash of the knife, but instead of agonizing pain to his throat and the subsequent pouring of blood into his airway, he felt a sharp slice across his jawbone and the weight pinning him being shoved off. There was the sound of a short scuffle, then a muffled cry and a crack. Tony rolled quickly into a seated position, his brow furrowed. _How am I not dead_? He shook his head wonderingly and tried to stand, but a wave of dizziness kept him seated. Beautifully familiar sharp blue eyes seat in the weathered skin of a marine appeared in front of his face. "You alright, Tony?"

Tony coughed out a laugh as the aged but still surprisingly strong NCIS agent hauled him to his feet. "Fine." He swayed, but Gibbs had an arm around his waist, keeping him upright.

"You want to try that again?" Gibbs tone suggested irritation but Tony recognized the relief behind it.

His response was cut off by the security personnel and police officers who rushed up, guns drawn. "Way to be late to the party, guys." Tony snarked instead, grabbing for his badge. "Get the FBI here." The guards looked at each other, not recognizing the ECTF name on Tony's bag.

Gibbs flashed his NCIS badge. "He's with me." The police officers nodded and backed off, beginning to close the scene.

Tony, who was still unsteady from the facial blows he had received during the fight, shakily sat down. He felt along his face, wincing when he found blood still gushing from his nose. He tried to asses the rest of the damage, but gentle fingers pushed his hand away and ghosted along the sides of his face, searching for injury. Gibbs pushed back Tony's eyelids, checking for dilated pupils.

"I mow who eh pwesiden is," Tony mumbled. He licked his lips and spit, trying to clear some of the blood from his mouth. "I know who the president is, Gibbs."

One side of Gibb's lips quirked upward ran his hand through the younger man's soft dark hair, searching for any open wounds or bumps. He searched Tony's neck for any knife wounds, and found one along the younger man's jawbone. "That's gonna need stitches." Gibbs said quietly.

Tony felt along the side of his jaw and located the wound. Wincing, he pinched it shut with his fingers. "There's an extra shirt in my bag." Gibbs reached into the bag that concealed Tony's weapon and located the material.

He pulled it out and raised an eyebrow at Tony. "Hawaiian?"

"Just give me the damned shirt. Mock me after the blood is clotting."

Gibbs gave him the shirt and Tony pressed it on with one hand. "Ducky?" The older man inquired.

"Get him to come to Bethesda." Gibbs quirked his head- the DiNozzo he knew, NCIS or ECTF would never willingly go to a hospital. "Mary's in surgery there." The younger man explained. Gibbs nodded, and handed a NCIS business card and the map to one of the baffled National Mall security guards. "Clear the memorial areas. Give these to the FBI when they get here." He helped Tony up slowly and supporting him, made their way towards the car through the gathering crowd.

They sped away towards Bethesda Hospital. All was quiet for the ride there, except for the call Gibbs made to Ducky telling him to meet them there. Once they parked, Tony immediately headed for the NCIS autopsy truck that was waiting up front.

The younger man shook Ducky's hand with the one he wasn't using to hold the shirt to his face. "Ducky."

The older man guided him to sit down in the back of the truck and began his gentle ministrations. "My dear boy, whatever happened to your face?"

Tony's lips quirked upward, and he glanced over to meet Gibb's gaze. "Got attacked by Goliath himself."

Ducky's brow furrowed at the comment and look between Tony and Gibbs. Long since used to receiving descriptions of the situations surrounding injuries that were enigmatic at best, he only nodded and continued his work. "The cut needs stitches, and your nose needs to be set. Do you want painkillers?"

"Nah, just go ahead and do what you need to do."

Tony only winced slightly at the popping noise and ensuing pain as Ducky forced the top of his nose into place. The kindly medical examiner set several butterfly bandages over it, and taped it with gauze. Next came the suture kit, and he made quick work of cleaning and closing the wound on Tony's jaw. He located a mirror, and handed it to Tony. "There you go my boy."

Tony nodded. "Thanks Ducky." He tilted his head. "Kinda gory."

Gibbs pulled out a sterile wipe and began cleaning the caked blood away from Tony's face. He handed another wipe to Tony, who cleaned off his hands and wrists. He nodded his thanks to Gibbs and turned to Ducky. "May I request something else?"

"Certainly, lad."

"One of my team was shot. She's in surgery. If… When she makes it, would you mind acting as her physician? She doesn't particularly like people she isn't familiar with caring for her, but I have a feeling she'd like you."

"Of course." Ducky's eyes twinkled mischievously. "She sounds a bit like a very fine young man I used to work with…"

Tony offered a genuine smile and headed inside. As a last thought, he threw a "You can come out now, Palmer!" over his shoulder. Gibbs followed Tony, chuckling quietly as the young Autopsy gremlin stepped out of the truck, baffled as to how Tony knew he was there. Ducky shrugged, and the two followed Gibbs into the hospital.

Back in the trauma waiting room, everyone sat in silence having heard Meloy's grim words only ten minutes prior. All knew exactly what that could mean. Abby was crying onto Ziva's shoulder. Fornell lethargically watched the entrance to the hospital. Eli and Malachi conversed quietly in Hebrew. Kort sat alone, rubbing the back of his bald head. The ECTF sat with Director Meloy, quiet in the shock of Tony's apparent sacrifice. McGee was near the ECTF, frantically kneading his thumbs together.

An uncomfortable silence hung over the whole room. Nobody knew what was going on or who was alive, and all were antsy.

Suddenly, Fornell jumped up. "I'll be damned."

Meloy whirled to see what he was talking about, and breathed an enormous sigh of relief. "Oh, thank God."

Tony, bruised and beaten walked into the waiting room. "The threat is neutralized," he declared with a small smile. The room erupted into cheers. Everyone with the exclusion of the CIA, FBI, and Mossad members rushed up and hugged Tony and Gibbs, who followed close behind. Irritated at the ruckus, a nurse at the front desk quickly shushed them. Thoroughly reprimanded, they all sat down. Tony took his place next to Meloy and McGee.

Four agonizing hours later, a young surgeon stepped into a crowded trauma waiting room nervously, scanning the room. "Family of Mary… err, just Mary?" He shrank back as the very vast majority of the room immediately stood and surged on him. Who the hell was this patient anyways? Normally it only got this crowded when there was a sports injury and the team showed up to support the player. However, taking one look at the diversity of gender, age, and ethnicity told him that it was not a team. Several were visibly armed… and all seemed dangerous, ready to pounce at any moment. He took a glance at each face. Two gray haired men, one with a military cut and one bald except for the sides of his head, stood side-by-side drinking coffee. A tall Goth female hung on the arm of the military-cut one. A young woman of Middle Eastern origin stood with two men of the same ethnicity. A perpetually bored looking man hung back, alone. A young... Navy SEAL? Holy shit, was that a Navy SEAL? He was near three figures clad in all black, one short with red hair and glasses, one tall and African American, and one… humongous. Two glasses-wearing men dressed in scrubs. A woman dressed in elegant black clothing. Two green-eyed men of the same height led the whole pack; One slightly nerdy-looking one wringing his fingers, and one dressed in all black with an air of danger intensified by the stitches lining his right jawbone and bandages over his nose. The M.D. gulped. He really _hated _being on call.

"So?" the incredibly roguish looking man barked expectantly in a sharp, authoritative tone.

The doctor gulped. "Uh, well…" He glanced around at the mob surrounding him. Understanding crossed the dangerous looking man's face. He turned around and waved his hand behind him. "Back it up, people," All except for the well-dressed woman and nerdy looking man complied. "What's her status?"

The doctor, though still nervous, caught his tongue. "Uh, the bullet hit an artery, nicked a rib and lodged in part of the small intestine, causing severe blood loss and-"

"Doc!" The younger, nerdy man interjected, sounding far less patient than his less reputable looking counterpart. "Will she be alright?"

The doctor blinked. "Erm, yes. She's in the recovery room. We were able to repair the damage, and she should make a full recovery though there will be scarring. You might want to consult a plastic-"

"She won't care." The more unscrupulous appearing man interrupted. "When can we see her?"

"Well, it won't be terribly long until she wakes up, so I guess you can see her soon." He glanced at the massive group. "In recovery, only -"

The man let out a sort of strangled laugh. "Yeah, we know. Two at a time."

The doctor nodded, his impression of this group quickly growing worse. Invading the room in a massive, armed, disreputable-looking pack? Not caring about scarring from a bullet wound? The patient _being _a bullet wound victim in the first place? Being familiar with the policies of trauma centers in hospitals? Who the hell were these people? He shook his head in awe. "You can come with me," he said, thoroughly intimidated. The two green-eyed men who led the pack followed him through the doors.

Tony and McGee followed the doctor into a tiny area with privacy curtains and rushed up to the bedside. Mary lay in the hospital bed, hooked up to an I.V. and heart monitor. Blankets were pulled up to her abdomen, and her hospital gown was open on one side, exposing white bandages covering her left side. The steady _beep _of her heart gave reassurance that the very still, very pale, very young girl was alive. Her left arm hung in a sling close to her chest, her wrist in a black brace. Tony turned suspicious eyes on the young M.D. "What happened to her hand?"

"Oh, we found a simple fracture of the wrist during surgery. Common when taking a fall-"

Tony realized that it must have happened when she collapsed. He lessened his glare, though it still remained on a lesser scale. "Why did you put it in a sling?"

"It's routine to put an arm near suturing into a sling to avoid disturbing the stitches. She should only have to wear it at night." Tony, assuaged, refocused his attention on Mary. Unsure of what to do, the surgeon nodded awkwardly. "Well, I'll just leave you to it…" he trailed off uncomfortably and left the room.

Once the M.D. was gone, Tony walked to the foot of the bed and pulled up the covers a little, exposing Mary's feet. McGee watched him curiously. "She hates having her feet covered when she sleeps." He nodded, satisfied that Mary would be comfortable when she woke and sat down in one of the plastic chairs sitting bedside. McGee took a seat in the other one, content to stay there until the young ECTF agent woke.

A few minutes later, there was a gentle stirring from the bed. Tony jumped up and stood over to see groggy grey eyes looking up at him. "Wow," She said, voice hoarse, "Barely… even moved."

Tony grinned and poured a cup of water for her. "Thirsty?" She nodded, blinking slowly, and he helped her recline the bed up enough to drink it.

When she had drunk a few sips, she shook her head indicating she had had enough. "Anymore, gonna puke."

McGee stood up and moved bedside. She smiled at him, but he spoke first for once. "You're a sight for sore eyes."

Her sleepy grey eyes crinkled a little into a rueful smile. "Liar. 'Look… Like I was… shot."

McGee smiled in return. "And since you know you cannot see yourself, so well as by reflection, I, your glass, will modestly discover to yourself, that of yourself yet know not of."

She beamed at him, and Tony shook his head. The two nerds really were perfect for each other. Before he could inject a sarcastic comment about this being the wrong kind of room, a nun walked into the room. "Ms.… Mary, we'd like to move you to a regular room if that's okay…"

She turned irritated eyes on Tony. "What did I tell you about the nuns!?"

He held up his hands apologetically. "Sorry, giraffe, something came up. I didn't have time to screen the nurses."

Mary's eyes narrowed further. "Did you do something without me?" She weakly raised her head to get a better look at Tony. "What the hell happened to your nose?"

Tony tapped her gently on the chin. "Later." He turned to the poor nun, who looked beyond bewildered. "We'll help you roll her."

**This is the second to last chapter. I just finished the last chapter so I will be finalizing it and posting soon. It's more of an epilogue, though still in story format.**

**Comments, concerns, criticism and praise all welcomed! I love your reviews, so let me know what you think!**

**Happy birthday to me~ the 16th is September 3, so this posting is like a present to myself.**


	19. Chapter 19

**I don't own NCIS. That's Donald P. Bellesario and CBS's job. **

**This is the final chapter, and serves as sort of an epilogue. **

Mary turned out to be a star in the hospital during the week she was there. Tony managed to fend off some of the working nuns by telling them that his agent was Buddhist, but other nurses still seemed to have a need to mother her. Even Fornell demonstrated a sort of affection for Mary that surprised the NCIS team, coming by the hospital daily. He visited with her and brought her blue PowerAde, which she apparently loved. Mary returned the affection, kissing Fornell on the cheek when he left each time. "She's Emily's age. I tried to help her out when I met her. She was just starting at the CIA," he explained gruffly to Gibbs over Chinese food one night. "She got into some bad circles, helped steer her towards the case ECTF was working with the FBI and the Agency." He shook his head. "She was so damn young."

Ducky took over the care of the young woman. She was wary of him at first, not typically liking doctors, but his Scottish brogue endeared him to her. He too, was charmed by her intimate knowledge of Shakespeare and the culture of his homeland. She confessed to being a bit of an Anglophile, and he was more than happy to share stories of his youth with her.

Gibbs found himself growing a soft spot for the girl as well. On the first day, he went into her hospital room as more of a formality than anything, not expecting to really say anything to her. However, despite of them not knowing each other previously, she managed to draw him out for a conversation. They bonded over love of sniper operations and shared hatred of the CIA. His initial impression of her began to fade, replaced with one of a tough, capable, blunt young woman who had somehow managed to charm him.

Abby visited Mary frequently as well, sharing a sense of camaraderie over the fact that they were both exceedingly tall women from the south. They shared stories of Tony. Abby, not knowing anything about Tony in the past few years and Mary, not knowing anything about his NCIS days, were perfectly suited for long discussions about the ECTF agent. Forming a fast friendship, they exchanged phone numbers and emails. "We live in a men's world," Abby declared, "We girls have to stick together." Both working on intense schedules, they decided to get together for a weekend sometime in the near future.

Over the week, Malachi, Eli, and Kort sporadically showed up at the hospital. Malachi and Eli spent time speaking to Ziva and Kort made brief visits to Mary. Apparently he had developed a liking for the woman while she worked at the Agency, much to her chagrin. Tony and Gibbs took turns chasing him away.

McGee was rarely seen away from Mary, bringing various movies and TV shows in for them to watch when she was too tired to do anything else, including several makes of Macbeth and Julius Caesar. Initially he sat in the uncomfortable chair by her bedside, but after the first day she patted the side of the bed. "You don't have to sacrifice your back for me. Just help me slide over a little bit." For three days they lay side-by-side. Science fiction movies found their way into the mix. Oddly enough, Mary liked Star Wars almost as much as McGee did. Tony slid into the room, sitting at the foot of the bed. To Meloy he would later joke that he was "chaperoning," though the only romantically linked thing the two did was lay side by side. On the fourth day, the nurse announced that Mary was well enough to go outside. McGee waited outside of the room while Tony helped her get dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt that hung loosely over her bandages. Her arm was free, but it tugged her stitches to raise it, so Stevie braided her hair into a French braid for her.

The two walked through the mock-oriental hospital garden together, laughing at the cheesy topiary and comparing them to various Star Trek aliens. They sat down on a bench in front of a manmade creek, and she leaned gently into his side. They talked for a while; letting the sun warm their Vitamin-D deprived bodies. After a while, the conversation drifted off and they sat together in companionable silence, and the nurses surrounding the garden drifted away from them. A few moments passed, and Mary raised her head off of McGee's shoulder. He was about to ask whether she wanted to head back inside when he caught her smiling at him, grey eyes sparkling in the sun. He leaned in a little, and she followed. That being all the confirmation he needed he closed the distance between them and locked their lips.

Dexter, who was watching them through binoculars from a window of the hospital cafeteria cheered. "The eagle has landed!" Stevie and Mongo high-fived, and Tony smiled. The last few days in the hospital Mary and McGee would watch the movies wrapped in each other's arms, and McGee took every chance he though nobody was looking to kiss her.

At the end of the week, when Mary could finally leave the hospital, NCIS, ECTF, CIA, FBI, and Mossad showed up in the NCIS conference room to discuss and debrief. Tony had several bruises on his arms from Mary punching him and reading him his riot act for trying to go alone on the final mission. The Secretary of Homeland Security gave a classified services medal to Tony for his actions. Tony promptly handed it to Mary "All yours." The Secretary chuckled and left.

Eli and Malachi approached him and shook his and Meloy's hand. "Toda. We must be heading back to neutralize the threat in our part of the world." Eli said.

"Mary-" Malachi began, but Tony cut him off.

"She's not joining Mossad, MalPal." Tony grumbled.

"We shall see!" Eli said as they left the room.

Kort followed quickly with a nod. "The Agency is pleased. Thanks to the ECTF, Gibbs…" He smiled at Mary. "If the ECTF ever does you wrong, we would love to have you back." Both Tony and McGee growled at him as he left.

Fornell shook hands with Vance, Gibbs, and then Tony. "I'll be in touch." He offered a quick peck on the cheek to Mary.

Finally, Meloy shook Vance's hand. "A pleasure, I'm sure." Vance seemed slightly unsure of how to respond, and simply nodded. The ECTF turned to leave, and Mary planted a kiss on McGee's cheek.

"Talk to you soon."

The group headed down the stairs and into the bullpen. NCIS personnel all turned to watch the black-clad group head for the elevator. As the doors closed, Tony gave off a sort of sloppy salute.

A month later, life had finally calmed down for Team Gibbs. The dynamic had changed definitely, though. McGee and Abby's longtime flirtationship was over, leaving them as just best friends. Abby had gotten the number of several of their new friends, including Steven the Navy SEAL, Stevie, and Dexter. However, the only one she actually communicated with was Mongo, whom she was continually emailing. The giant of a man was remarkably profound and happened to be a science major. McGee's lovesickness for the Goth finally filled by what he thought might be real love budding for a certain brown hair, grey-eyed female. They were spending whatever off nights together they had, growing closer and closer. Gibbs could always tell when McGee had a date with Mary- his smile rivaled the DiNozzo grin the next morning. McGee received several different untraceable threats about things that would be done to him- things that made his blood curl- if he were ever to hurt Mary. Though they were unsigned, he had an excellent idea of whom they might be from.

There had been a wedge driven between Ziva and the rest of the team as news of what she had done came out. When she heard what happened, Abby pulled up the old footage of that day and watched it with McGee. She began speaking to Gibbs after a few weeks of him groveling, but her relationship with Ziva had fallen back to the distrust present when the former Mossad first arrived. Gibbs and Ziva's father-daughter bond was broken by too much strain and manipulation. McGee-With-a-Spine made reappearance. He had a very honest conversation with Gibbs one night a few days after the ECTF left in the older man's basement, and some level of respect was restored. However, Ziva held no power over the younger man, and he held her in little regard. He treated her professionally, unable to trust her. Ziva was considering a transfer to another team, and Gibbs was prepared to sign the papers to send her on her merry way.

Gibbs now thought of his former SFA even more often than he had before. Knowing the man was alive made him wonder what he was doing at that moment.

One night, after wrapping a case, Gibbs walked down into his basement. He immediately drew his weapon, and pointed it at the shadows. "You have three seconds to tell me who you are."

"Really," Tony said sardonically, stepping into the dim light, "This again?"

Gibbs holstered his weapon and sat down on the stool while Tony sat down on the sawhorse. "If you don't want me to point a weapon at you stop hiding in the shadows so damned much!"

Tony chuckled, running a hand through his dark hair. "Hiding in shadows is what I do best." The weighted sentence hung in the air as they sat in the dark silence for a few minutes. "McGee and Mary are getting serious."

Gibbs smiled. "Give it less than a year before they're engaged."

Tony nodded. "Yep. As much as I love making you jump and discussing the love lives of our team members, that's not why I'm here."

"I gathered, so why are you?"

Tony drummed his fingers on the edge of the table, trying to find the right words to say. "I came here to say… thank you."

Gibbs tilted his head. "For getting the dirt bag off of you?"

"Yeah, that." He chuckled. "Saving my life was pretty nice, but you've done it before."

"Same goes for you."

"Yeah." Tony's eyes met Gibbs, the haunted green looking a little less troubled. He cleared his throat, and surprised Gibbs with what he said next. "You didn't mean for me to disappear or be tortured for months, and you were kind of bullied into it by Ziva." He ignored Gibb's indignant look at that, and continued. "If I keep hating you, I'm no better than Ziva."

Gibbs understood- Ziva had continued to blame Tony for what happened in Somalia, and what had happened to Tony was a consequence of that. However, there was one point wrong. "Tony, being left wasn't your fault. Ziva chose by asking me to chose between the two of you, but we left you."

Tony nodded. "But that's what I wanted to thank you for- for choosing me over Ziva, for choosing me in Baltimore, for choosing me to be SFA on your team. You taught me what I knew, and helped shape me. Honestly, if it hadn't been for you, I wouldn't have made it through the torture."

Gibbs looked down, his throat suddenly feeling thick. "DiNozzo, you were already strong on your own- and I still screwed up."

Tony nodded and laughed. "Oh, yeah. Big time. But, and I think I'm reaching my sap quotient for a lifetime, is that I've forgiven you. I'll probably never be able to forget, but I've gotten past it." He offered a hand to Gibbs, who shook it warmly and placed hand on Tony's shoulder, locking gazes. In that moment, all was understood between them. Their relationship could never be the same as it once was, but it had found a new beginning. They both had hurt, they both had struggled, but in the end, they were both survivors. Tony released Gibb's grip and started for the stairwell, stopping at the top and giving off a salute that would've made any marine proud. "I'm sure we'll meet again soon. Semper fi!"

Gibbs raised his glass of bourbon. "Semper Fi, Tony. Semper Fi."

_Et finis._

**That's it, guys!**

**I don't currently have a sequel planned, though I haven't shut the door entirely. If you want to write tags or a sequel, feel free, just PM me so I can read them! (I'd love it if you did. McGee/Mary? Hint, hint.) I may post tags on this from time to time.**

**I've enjoyed writing this a lot, and you've made it even more fun. Thanks to all for reading and reviewing. Let me know what you thought, and I'll probably be out with a new story soon!**

**Much love,**

**RomanticisedRebel **


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